Audak added another log on the fire, hoping to keep the warmth going through the night. Several ten-days had passed since the fall of the Great Tower of Lighting and the last of the days of Haust were upon them, along with the warning of Vintr’s cold. The barbarian looked into the flames dancing upon the chill breeze, mesmerized for a moment by the chaos of fire. On the other side of the campfire his companions lay, trying to get some sleep while he stood watch. There were no safe nights at an inn these days, no slow wake-ups in the morning with a prepared breakfast. In reality, it was a lot more like home for the hero of the Bear tribe. Under the stars, surviving on your skills, staying alert for the dangers of the wild.

The biggest difference now was that the dangers in the wild tried to drain your soul!

A howl went up in the distance, a wolf cry that was echoed back by others even further away. The last call had been closer, so it seemed like the pack was headed East, away from their camp and their eventual destination. Audak had taken a chance earlier, relying on his instincts, and was glad he hadn’t wakened anyone during the first wolf call he had heard. Everyone needed their rest for tomorrow.

As the moon rose higher in the sky, the goliath thought about that day in Pua, when the chaos started. These days, every day was a constant battle for the survival of an entire world, an unending chore. Back then, though, it felt almost like a different world. A different Audak…

The Invasion

The news first came to them as they reached the dock ward in Lowertown. People were panicking and rushing about, but many were listening to news from outside of Pua as well. Sailors, merchants, or tourists travelling by transport were arriving with horrific stories from afar. In the several hours since the Machine had exploded, people had started arriving from the south and the north, fleeing to the place they thought would be safest of all. They carried with them tales of the horrors that were being unleashed upon the villages and farms of their lands, each one more filled with fear than the last.

From what Tanthalas could put together from the scattered reports that he and Al had gathered, there was an evil force that had been spotted taking out a village to the west of Eldravire, the home of the elves. There were also several accounts from the south telling of shadowy creatures stealing the souls of villagers near Hexen Tower. In general, there seemed to be a wide-spread panic across Lani and folks were fleeing to the safety of larger cities. All of this in just the few hours it had taken them to make their way down from Uppertown.

“We need to get on a transport out of here, see if we can help” suggested Brylla, ever the caring priestess. “It can’t be long before the next one leaves.”

“That assumes that the roads haven’t been blocked” retorted Tanthalas, “but you’re right, we need to get moving quickly.”

“I know some folks in Vornstrand” offered Al, “they may be able to help.”

“What about Flynver?” asked Brylla, still holding the wizard’s pack. “We don’t know where he is.”

“He’s gone, Brylla” replied Tanthalas, ever the pragmatist. “He sacrificed himself to save us, but that will be all for nothing if we don’t stop these things.”

A somber mood fell over the group, as they remembered their friend and his heroic act to save them all. The other refugees walking with them did not know Flynver as well as the quartet did, but they kept their silence out of respect. Brylla looked back up towards where the Great Tower had once stood, now just open sky, wondering if the gods now honoured the irreverent wizard as a fallen hero.

Sif protect you, Flynver.

“I think you can put me down” spoke a weak voice in Tanthalas’ arms. Two emerald eyes stared up at the elf, a small smile finally showing on the halfling’s face. Echo had not made a sound since they had taken her from the machine and they had not stopped moving yet to even check on her.

“Don’t push yourself” advised Brylla, as Tanthalas set her on her feet. “You don’t have all your strength back yet, but I can help with some of that.”

The dwarf raised her hands, whispering a soft prayer as she sent a warm and soothing wave of magic through the drained halfling. Echo was still not fully restored from the traumas inflicted upon her by her captor, but some strength returned to her voice and she stood straighter than a moment ago.

“Thank you for saving me. For saving us” said the druid, staring up at the tall ones all around her. “I can’t imagine what you gave up to come this far. But if what they’re saying is true, I need to get back to Denn. They need to be ready!”

The other refugees nodded in agreement. Each of them were warriors, heroes of their clans or villages, and refused to stand by and let their people be slaughtered by these creatures. They all wanted to save their homes, or die trying.

“I hope we see you again, little one” whispered Brylla softly, clasping the halfling’s forearm in her strong grip. “Don’t die on us.”

The others said their goodbyes to those they had rescued, as each started off on their path home. The last to leave were Audak’s countrymen who were pleading with him to return to the Spine Mountains. The little kobold, Steve, seemed particularly upset that the tribe’s hero wasn’t coming with them. Brylla knew how hard it must be for the young goliath, to not return to his family and protect their home, but she was glad he would be by their side as they faced whatever was coming from the south.

“Over here” called out Al, as he waved for the others. “This driver says they are headed to Vornstrand within the hour.”

Brylla looked back once again at Pua’s lights, hearing the murmuring sound of the Lowertown crowds shuffling along in the low light. The world was never going to be the same, was it?

Making a Stand

It took a few days, even with the fast transports still operational, to make it to Vornstrand. The driver tried to push through the night, but there was only so far they could get in a given day without resting. When they arrived, though, a strange feeling came over Al. The dragonborn hadn’t been away from Vornstrand for such a long time before and seeing it appear on the horizon stirred something inside him. He would not have called Vornstrand “home” before, but as he saw the splashing waves striking against the port and the sprawling stacked housing where he knew every alleyway and tunnel, he realised that the familiarity of the city had been something he had been missing.

As they disembarked, the others looked around at the busy city, the many merchant stalls lining the streets like colourful welcoming stations. There was something wrong, though. At this time of the day, the shipyards should have been bustling with crew getting ships ready for the days work and the stalls should have been staffed with merchants hawking their wares at annoyingly high pitches as they tried to be heard above the din of the bazaar.

But there was nothing but silence and the sound of the lapping waves.

There were no signs of struggle or destruction, no sickly smell of the dead, nor the tell-tale markings of a rapid evacuation. It was as if everyone had simply disappeared! Given the hundreds of thousands of residents of the city, this seemed entirely unlikely to Al, and he was fairly certain he knew where he could get some answers.

The others followed him through the quiet streets, noting the shuttered windows and empty taverns. At a corner, the rogue turned to his companions and gestured down an alley on his right. His large frame narrowly squeezed through a passage between two buildings and then he came upon a set of stairs leading down into the ground. This eastern entrance was lovingly called Squatters Gate because of the usual drifters and street folks that would take up shelter from the elements here. No sign of them, either, though.

“Where has everyone gone, Al?” asked Tanthalas, bending to the ground to examine some tracks in the dirt. “These prints are fresh, someone has been here recently. How does an entire city vanish?”

“I’m not sure, but I know who we can ask” he replied mysteriously, always preferring to reveal as little as he needed to.

About 20 meters into the underground tunnel, the dragonborn paused, as if trying to remember something and turned towards the stone wall on his left. He tapped out a rhythm against the stone and then waited. For a moment, there was nothing, and Brylla was just about to ask what he was up to when suddenly an entire chunk of the wall flipped inward revealing a well-lit interior full of various figures, most dressed very similarly to Al, rapidly talking and going over maps and strategies. At the entrance, a squat woman with an enormous smile greeted Al like a long-lost friend.

“You’re back! Come in, come in, just in time, ye are. We’re about to serve the roast! Oh, and you brought friends!”

The short woman’s mannerisms implied a motherly role, which sat in sharp contrast to her appearance. Her greying short-cropped hair was accompanied by scars and tattoos over most of her arms. Across her chest were at least a dozen blades, and her cloak could not conceal the fact that she was heavily armoured. Despite her warm greeting, this was clearly a trained killer.

“Oh, I might have forgotten to mention” Al said as they followed the woman in the door. “I’m part of an underground world-wide spy network headquartered here in Vornstrand.”

Al waited, expecting the inevitable quip from Flynver, but then the sadness hit as the lack of response reminded the dragonborn of his absence. They were led through the main room into a smaller chamber, where their guide, who introduced herself as Snip, asked them to take a seat. Once the door was closed Al filled them in on his mission to scout the west and report back, explaining that he had been told to follow the rumours, connect with his contact in Denn, and keep his leaders apprised of whatever was happening. The others had questions, but they were interrupted as the door opened and a familiar figure filled the doorway.

“Good to see you safe, Al” said Ge’off warmly, though Al had heard this voice enough to know that any attempt at niceties was more of a show for the other guests. “You’ve been busy, to say the least. News travels fast here and when the Tower fell, well, it didn’t take long for the network to piece together who might have caused that! I am sure my sister was not pleased with the outcome today, but what is done is done and now it is tomorrow we need to worry about. We have evacuated as much of the city into the tunnels as possible, using glamours to hide any spies we are keeping above ground. It won’t last long, but it will buy us the minutes we need when they arrive. Now what happened in Pua?”

Al quickly filled in the guild leader on what they had found beneath the streets of Uppertown and the escape they had made. Ge’off nodded along, his expression difficult to read, as the pieces were explained to him. It was a little disconcerting to be seeing his face, this close. Usually, the bosses would keep to the shadows so that none could identify them if the situation arose where it mattered. Yet here he was, hiding nothing. After their encounter near Greenfell following their narrow survival of the Shadow Lord, Al had wondered if that voice from that night might have matched to the familiar one from Vornstrand, and now it was confirmed.

“So, allow me to summarize” stated the young merchant, or whatever he truly was. “You’ve destroyed the only protection we had from the Dark, an invasion has started in multiple corners of Lani, and the most powerful weapon at our disposal was teleported away to an unknown location with no exits or entrances.”

“That pretty much sums it up, yes”.

The guild leader began pacing back and forth, stroking his chin with one hand as his silver eyes seemed to search the floor for answers.

“There’s no time to save the elves or Hexen Tower, they will fall before we can get there” he began, moving over to a map of Lani hanging on the wall. He pointed at their location and drew a circle with his finger around the eastern parts. “We can defend here and push back, maintain the region, but we’ll need to coordinate with Balderston, Pua, and the villages to the south.”

“What about the West? Or the Spine Mountains? They will fall without help!” shouted Al, clearly worried about his own people. Brylla nodded along, thinking of her family at home in the foothills, as well as her chosen clerical family at the Temple of Sif.

“You said Echo went to Denn, correct?” Ge’off said, carefully avoiding a direct answer. “She will buy us some time. As weak as she might be, I’ve watched her long enough to know she has something special to bring to this fight.”

Ge’off spoke something in the thief’s cant, using a draconic base of syllables to further hide his words. Only Al understood the warning.

“This is not a fight where everyone survives. There will come a time where you will need to make a choice.”

The warning was said in a tone that implied obedience, as if it was a command. The dragonborn didn’t like to think what that meant, or what Ge’off was actually up to. What choice would he have to make?

The Fall of the Hexen Tower

For the next several days, Tanthalas and the crew worked with the Vornstrand people to build defenses and prepare the area for the upcoming siege. Ge’off’s network of spies seemed to be everywhere, reporting back at regular intervals and allowing them the opportunity to track the enemies’ movements. When the news came of the fall of the Hexen Tower, it was a devastating blow, even if it was expected. The most powerful masters of the arcane inhabited that one place and that should have been enough to hold back the oncoming horde, but the school could not remain united. Ancient truces with demons, devils, beasts, and creatures from across the planes fell apart, a peace no longer possible without the power of Ilandriel’s charm upon the world. Even though those who called the Tower home were able to halt the incoming force of the Dark, the halls of the school were destroyed as wizards fought beholders, and demons, and even their own kind. The Tower fell, along with all the knowledge within. Thousands of wizards, students and teachers alike, perished in the disaster, losing millennia of advancement in the techno-arcane. Everyone knew it was only a matter of time before everything that modern Lani knew of as a way of life would begin to fall apart.

Al had debated with the guild for days, trying to get them to see reason. They had been intent on fortifying and hiding initially, but with Ge’off’s support they had managed to convince the guild and the city to take a more active role. Vornstrand needed to be the place where a stand was made. Word was spread through their network and refugees began arriving by the hundreds as the days went on, fueling not only a feeling of safety in numbers, but also giving Tanthalas something to work with.

The elf worked with anyone willing to lift a bow or blade, rapidly training groups as they prepared for the worst. Once enough had the basics, he told them to teach the others while his friends planned an offensive push. They knew they could stop the spread in the south, but protecting Pua to the north would be more difficult. On the road, the elf planned their moves carefully, trying to find the best way to cover ground and save as many as they could. When they first faced their foe in the fields it brought back all the same horrors from Greenfell, but now they were prepared. Tanthalas and his friends were more powerful now, better equipped, and so they pushed back, destroying these hordes of shadows and undead that came for them. The creatures wails haunted the evening air as they were banished from this realm once more. Discovering the towns, however, was a different matter.

The first ghost village they encountered was eerily quiet, as Vornstrand had been, but with the signs of struggle and death all around. Children, grandmothers, merchants, the rich, the poor… they all lay in groups in the streets, fallen atop each other in their rush to escape. Initially, Tanthalas had been checking for any signs of life, but after several dozen it became pointless. These dead were the lucky ones.

Tanthalas led them from street to street, eradicating the horde from every corner of the village, the elf using every skill at his disposal to track them down. There was a rage inside him now, rivaling even his barbarian friend’s temper. Boblin’s blade sung in his hands as he forcibly brought justice to those who had dared to cause this horror. One after another, they fell, until the village was absent even of the shuffling sound of the undead.

With their work in the south complete, they returned north, heading for Pua to help hold the stronghold there. On the road, Al had heard word from the spy network that Eldravire had fallen. Tanthalas’ people were scattered to the winds, those few that had managed to escape. The ranger had left them so long ago that he was surprised that any feeling still remained for them, but they were family, in their way. How many of his kind might still remain? Would he ever hear the musical flow of his language again? These were the thoughts he had as the transport carried them to Balderston before passing along to the city where the great light no longer shone.

Back when they had been in the Spine Mountains, when they had first learned of the field dampening the emotions of the people of Lani, the elf had wondered if perhaps the price of freedom would be too high. Perhaps the forced peace might be the actual answer. Now, they were starting to see what the people of Lani had faced all those millennia ago. The dead were counting in the hundreds of thousands, people were losing their homes and their way of life. By the time they had reached Pua, Al had been forced to report to Audak and Brylla that the hill dwarves had been attacked in the mountain passes. The dwarven clans were scattered, without homes, now a nomadic people searching for refuge wherever they could.

In Pua, chaos reigned in Lowertown. Refugees from all over had been arriving for days seeking shelter in the great port city. With no law and order in place, nor a dampening field to settle emotions, absolute mayhem had settled itself in for a nice long stay. The signs of looting were everywhere as they walked along the cobblestone roads past the docks ward. Tanthalas spotted a couple of hooded figures crouched in an alley, holding down a smaller figure, but as he turned to them to shout they noticed the elf watching and ran off, leaving the small figure clutching a bruised cheek.

As they continued to walk forward, Tanthalas began to notice that a path seemed to open before them. Was it fear? Respect? Possibly both? Tanthalas and the others certainly didn’t hold themselves like those here in Lowertown. There was no fear etched on their faces and they bore the look of hardened warriors now. There was also the high probability that news had spread of the ones who had destroyed the Great Tower of Lighting and, knowing how rumours spread here, their exploits had probably been elevated to fantastical levels. Perhaps it was time to take advantage?

“You there” called out Tanthalas, pointing a finger at a small goblin huddling in a corner. The goblin looked around, hoping the elf hadn’t been pointing at him. “Tell me who is in charge here.”

“Not me, big tall scary one!” the frightened goblin yammered, looking about for an escape. “Not nobody, not here’s in Lowertown! It’s always the important ones in the high up town! They say a monster protects the Uppertown and none can enter, though! DON’T SMITE ME PLEASE!”

“Let’s see who this monster is” said the elf, turning to the others. “We’ll need to be careful, just in case Dru is back.”

Using the thieves highway on the rooftops, they quickly made their way across the city, bypassing the usual choke points between Lowertown, Midtown, and Uppertown. As they travelled, they noticed that the chaos of Lowertown was replaced by a complete quiet in Midtown, the residents hiding in their homes and staying off the streets. When they finally reached their destination and looked down upon the streets of Uppertown, it was apparent that things were very different here. Already, the courtyard where the tower had fallen had been cleared, replaced by groups of individuals practicing swordplay and archery. The sound of hammer strikes against anvils were a constant rhythm coming from the Steamy Smithy and Day Spa. Guards were posted at various intersections, with patrols passing down through the side streets in pairs. A boy, rushing through the courtyard with a large bucket of stones, tripped and fell, the rocks spilling out across the cobblestones before him. One of the would-be soldiers knelt down, helping the boy to his feet and then he started to help collect the stones back into the bucket.

Somebody here was building an army.

Tanthalas scanned the crowd, trying to locate the ‘monster’ in charge, unable to see any sign of the dragon they had faced. Then Audak pointed to an area near the shops where a pair of horns rose above the gathering.

“He’s alive!” shouted Audak, joy in his voice. He grabbed the edge of the roof, swinging himself over the edge as the goliath rushed his way down to the streets. The elf couldn’t believe it… how had Bleg managed to survive?

Hope

Thousands were dead. The city of Pua had survived, but at a great cost. While the people mourned their lost neighbours, Brylla served final rites to those that she could. The cleric still had the blood of many, enemies and allies alike, splashed on her armour and shield and face. She brushed her hair out of her eyes as she tended the wounds of an old man who had been carrying arrows to the rear lines of archers. Her prayers felt forced and strained, her faith tested by the horrors of the day.

Tanthalas and the others were burning whatever was left of the invading force, taking parties into the woods to make sure they were chased away. It had been hours since she had wished them well and had started dealing with the aftermath. She heard a scream from down a nearby alley and raced to find a child cornered by a small scaly creature with fangs, its six-legged body trying to climb over the box the girl had been using as a shield.

“Begone!” shouted the dwarf, raising her fist to the heavens and bringing a pillar of bright flame down upon the creature. It shrieked and shriveled up as its body was immolated by the divine fire of her faith. The child ran, tears streaming down her face. This was the terror that she and the others had brought upon an unprepared world.

When the others came back, Al brought the unfortunate news from the Spine Mountains. The force that had scattered the hill dwarves had gone higher into the mountains, decimating the barbarian tribes. Brylla’s face fell as she learned of the fate the barbarian tribes, and all the others of the Spine Mountains who had been slaughtered and sent to the four winds. Now nomads, without a home, struggling to survive after the wave of dark forces had rolled over them, unaffected by the elements. As tough as the stout hill dwarves were, they were no match for this enemy. Her people had survived, but were scattered. Audak’s tribe had been prepared for the coming of the enemy, but the other tribes had no chance and were reduced to roving packs of raiders. Survival in the peaks would now be even harder than the harsh weather had already made it.

There were corroborated reports from multiple sources that two groups of the invading Dark forces were descending from the mountains towards Denn. Al mentioned that the Temple of Sif was already preparing for the worst. Brylla could imagine Thalorin, the high priest, leading his flock in prayer with the hopes that Sif would grant them the protection needed in this time of need. They were not warriors, they were scholars and priests, the guardians of knowledge and books, not ready for the realities of war. She begged the others to go west with her, even if it seemed as if it would take a miracle to make it in time.

The kind faces of her companions showed no hesitation as they placed their hands on her in support. Tanthalas was saying something, the elf’s words firm and inspiring, no doubt, but all she could hear was the sound of that child’s shrieks of terror. There was a smell, like burning wood. She was certain she could see the temple under siege, creatures of darkness everywhere. The vision was overwhelming! A gift from Sif, or perhaps a curse, Brylla hoped that there was still time to stay the hands of the Fates.

It took days to travel the length of Lani, across the fields that led to the Denn highway, and ultimately straight into the middle of the death and destruction. They had arrived too late. The transports wouldn’t even go near the city, such was the sight of destruction that could be seen from hours away. They fought their way through smaller groups of shadows and undead, making their way into the swamp and forests to the north of Denn, hoping to circle around to the port from the other side. The screams could be heard from afar, carrying on the wind as they made their way through the rough terrain.

Tanthalas slowed them as they approached a clearing, sensing something was amiss. A large black shape suddenly dropped in front of them, rows of jagged teeth bared as it snarled at them, but its head suddenly cocked as it smelled the group before them and then lowered its head. Atop the dragon was a little boy, one they had met a few weeks back in Denn. The child could not be more than eight years old and was dressed in clothing far too large for him, making him appear even younger. He held a shortsword awkwardly in his right hand as his left hand gripped his draconic mount. As unusual as it seemed, there was no mistaking that this was Jordan, the Denn councilman’s nephew.

“Am I glad to see you!” piped up the dragonrider, sliding down to the ground to rush up to them. “Skaeli and I have been doing what we can, but there are so many of them! Have you come to help?”

“Do you know how bad it is?” asked Al, trying to get any information they could.

“The siege on the temple started maybe an hour ago?” answered the boy. “We flew over it, but had to pull back to the swamp when the real fighting started. Those priests make a big show! Denn is in bad shape though, I heard that most of the council left by ship and some goblin is in charge now. I haven’t heard anything from my moms or uncle since the attack began this morning. When we flew by, it looked like everyone was huddled up behind barricades in the dock ward.”

“We need to save who we can immediately,” declared Brylla, knowing that they could not turn the tide by themselves, but perhaps they could ease the amount of suffering. “Do you have any others with you?”

The boy gestured towards the clearing and put two fingers to his mouth, whistling a quick and shrill series of notes. From behind rocks and trees and bushes came the children, hundreds of them, holding sticks and shovels and whatever they could get their hands on in the escape.

“This is our army” proclaimed Jordan with pride. “Skaeli’s Soldiers.”

Brylla couldn’t help but smile as the entire group held up their weapons and saluted the dragon, who in turn bellowed into the sky. Look what their world had come to in just a week? Children fighting alongside dragons against an army of the night.

“Okay, let’s get started” Tanthalas stated, gesturing to his companions to start heading north. As they moved forward they found groups of refugees fleeing from the Temple, chased by the agents of the shadows who had thought they had easy prey. When they met Tanthalas, Brylla, Al and Audak, they learned that this would be no easy feast. They cleared the way, allowing the refugees the time they needed to make it deeper into the swamp and to the protection of the children’s army. Brylla stopped one of the men who had just come from the temple.

“Tell me, please?” she asked, though she was afraid to learn how much of her vision was true.

“It was horrible” the farmer began, describing in detail the gruesome attacks. “Thalorin and the priests protected us as best they could, but the library was destroyed. Most of the followers of Sif stood bravely, but many fell covering our escape. If you hadn’t been here, I don’t think any of us would have made it out alive.”

Brylla wanted to shout out in anguish, but there was no time. More of the vile creatures were upon them, tendrils of shadow reaching for them in the forest. She blasted the first one as Audak brought his axe down upon another. There was no time to mourn.

A World to Rebuild

Tanthalas woke from his meditation, eyes immediately scanning around. The others were asleep, save for Audak who was quietly seated, staring at the fire and poking it occasionally to keep it going. The elf silently glided forward to take a seat next to the barbarian, not wanting to wake the others as they swapped watches. The young goliath was all too glad to have a chance to sleep and nodded his appreciation in silence as he stood to take his turn in his bedroll.

Blitz’s bronze form curled up around Tanthalas’ leg, always trying to be close. He was getting bigger now, though, no longer the tiny hatchling of last season. It wouldn’t be long before he was as big as Tanthalas himself! The “Dragonspeaker” ran his hand over the drake’s head as he stared up at the full moon, slightly covered in clouds. For a moment, he thought of Blaze, the friend that he hadn’t seen since before Tanthalas had first visited Denn. Where had the dragon gone? Had they survived? Had they known what was happening?

He felt something, more than heard it. After all these weeks the ranger had started to know when They were coming. There was a stillness that happened, a quiet that didn’t feel right. It was the sensation of a predator approaching, even though the elf’s keen ears heard no sound. He reached his foot out to tap Brylla, who woke almost instantly, on her feet in a moment. She banged her mace to her shield once, waking Al and Audak from their slumber as the elf drew his blade.

The battle was swift, there were only two of them this time, but it seemed to be happening nearly every night. None of them had slept through the night in weeks and the constant alertness was draining what little energy reserves they had. They had to find a way to stop these creatures from coming through, but how?

As the others tried to go back to sleep, Tanthalas stared up at the full moon once again. The fairy’s memories and lessons learned still rattled around in his head and there was something about the lunar light that helped him focus. He tried to access them, searching for a reason or a clue, but nothing would come to him. Nothing except the same vision of a large stone door, with a single dwarven rune upon it. He had mentioned it to Brylla but she had never heard of it, so here they were on their way to Nidavellir. Hopefully Thegman and his people might have an answer, because Tanthalas had a feeling that the door from his visions was very important. Maybe even the key to saving all of Lani!

Credits

• Cover image: “Undead army”, original artist unknown, sourced from Artificer’s Intuition.