harleyscars Page 91
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“To truly end this war, we must find a solution at the source behind the demons and monsters. The Abyss Lord Okus is the root of this war.” Galos raised his head, his gaze resolute. “I already have a plan.”
"So you turned down the proposals from those fence-sitters to make you the new king?" Casalos asked.
Gaelos gave a wry smile: "The crown holds no appeal for me. My oath of guardianship is to protect this land and its people, not to rule them."
Iron Dragon chuckled inwardly. This paladin's noble sentiments were indeed admirable, but how could one escape the script written by the gods? However, it was precisely these qualities that made him Bahamut's ideal pawn, which would be extremely beneficial to Bahamut's future ambitions for divine office and prestige.
"I've heard you've been appearing and disappearing every day lately, hanging out with some old man with a white beard," Casalos asked casually. "Are you preparing for some major operation?"
Gaelos paused for a moment, then shook his head and smiled bitterly: "As expected, nothing can be hidden from you. Your previous guesses were all correct. I am now ready for the journey to the Abyss—even if this is a game between the gods, I am willing to be a pawn. If the source of the demons cannot be cut off, Damara will never have peace."
Casalos's indigo eyes flickered slightly; the time was almost right for it to switch to the golden dragon skin... It would be perfect to have Byersted play a key role in this upcoming journey into the abyss and gain Bahamut's trust.
However, just as Casalos was about to ask further questions, a commotion arose outside the tent. A panicked messenger rushed in.
"My lord!" he shouted to Gaelos, "Urgent news! A winged, half-dragon, dog-headed creature outside claims to have important news to report to Lord Casalos. The dragons don't recognize it, but its bloodline is indeed that of an Iron Dragon..."
Casalos frowned. A half-dragon kobold of Iron Dragon blood? That's most likely the kobolds. Something extremely important must have happened, otherwise the kobolds who should be staying in Dragonlands or the Astral Plane wouldn't risk traveling such a long distance to Damara.
“Let it in,” Casalos commanded.
A moment later, the half-dragon kobold staggered into the tent. She was covered in dust and blood, clearly having endured a difficult journey. Upon seeing Casalos, her eyes lit up with excitement, and she immediately knelt on one knee.
"My lord! I have finally found you..."
After a three-month journey, Casalos's first dog, Eisen, used its two legs and a pair of wings that were not structurally suitable for humanoid bodies and could not fly for long, to "climb" from Tindor to Damara, all in search of Casalos.
Under Casaloz's wide-eyed, repeated questioning, Eisen realized she had probably caused a major disaster. Trembling, she knelt before Casaloz and gave a detailed account of what had happened: "Isis rescued a little girl named Caitlin from the storm. Caitlin begged her to go to Cormir to rescue her mistress, and Eisen, feeling sorry for the little girl, agreed. Because our disguise spells weren't working properly, and Cormir is very hostile to outsiders, she didn't take us with her..."
Casalos's dragon eyes suddenly contracted. Isis? Caitlin? Cormier?
Actually, there was no need for repeated confirmation. Upon hearing Caitlin's name and Cormier's key location, Casalos already understood what had made him uneasy when he heard about Isis earlier.
That's the main storyline of AO, the core vortex of the grudges and conflicts among the gods during a turbulent year.
"Should I be proud of you or worried?" Casalos murmured to itself. It "looked" at the network of fate deduced by the pseudo-Laplace's demon, feeling both helpless and excited at the same time.
Blame is out of the question. Caitlin's true identity is a fragment of magic that the goddess of magic, Mystra, cut from herself. According to the original timeline, she should have sought out Midnight. Instead, she went to Tindor and found Isis. What happened after that was beyond Isis's control—just as it said about Galos, in the script of the gods, the actors have no right to refuse, especially in this script of gods above gods and AO.
But do the changes in the script mean that the wings of this little butterfly have finally caused an immeasurable deviation in the world line of the country?
What role did Isis play in this great wheel of fate where the gods reshuffled their destiny?
It's truly an intriguing development.
“It’s already mid-July…” Casalos murmured to himself, his calm tone unable to conceal the turmoil in his heart: the month of fire, the third month since the gods were banished.
The air inside the tent seemed to freeze. Garros sensed something and looked thoughtfully at Ka.
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Saloz, however, did not interrupt the young iron dragon's thoughts. Fiona tactfully pulled Eisen aside, telling her not to disturb him.
Casalos stood with his back to the crowd, his indigo dragon eyes slightly closed, the pseudo-Laplace demon fully focused on deducing the possibilities of the future. Based on the replay of abstract memories of his past life and existing information, Caitlin should have already returned to the embrace of the goddess of magic, and Isis should have arrived at Bane's secret fortress and made contact with Mystra. A series of blurry images flashed through his mind: a cursed beastman warrior, a priest who had lost his faith, a wanderer born of darkness yet chasing after the light, the fortress's dark corridors, a sorceress shimmering with unknown light, Mystra's figure breaking free of her chains with the power of her recovered divine power, Bane's disheveled escape, Heim's stern gaze on the Heavenly Stairway... These fragments pieced together a future vision that filled Casalos with both excitement and apprehension.
"With such a huge disturbance, will things still develop according to the predetermined trajectory?" it asked itself, and the dragon claws unconsciously gripped the sand table in front of it, leaving several deep claw marks on the terrain of Damara.
Logically, after escaping, the goddess of magic, Mystra, should have severely injured Bane, then disregarded Heim's advice and forcibly defied the AO's orders to ascend the Heavenly Staircase, ultimately being brutally killed by Heim, who was guarding the gates of the divine realm.
As the divinity lay dying, Mystra entrusted the task of retrieving the Tablet of Destiny to Midnight—now Isis, the ever-ambitious young woman who would never refuse such a mission…
50. Before the war
The surface of the Kragg Pool shimmered with an ominous leaden gray, as if it had been touched by the power of Bane, the god of shadows.
Isis stood by the pool, her solemn face reflected in the water. The Atlantean Magic Eyes—these eyes, bestowed upon her by the goddess of magic, were projecting the chaotic trajectory of magic power, now free from the control of the magic network, into her vision.
In the month of Fire, the foundations of Faerûn's magic crumbled like a drunken old man. The once elegant, chessboard-like magical trajectories were now scattered and twisted, tangled into a ball of yarn, with no beginning or end in sight.
If spellcasting was still somewhat possible before, the fall of the goddess of magic, Mystra, completely threw Faerûn's magical system into chaos. Even the old sage Ilminster couldn't guarantee that his spells would work properly, let alone those of other spellcasters.
"Isis, what can you see?" Midnight approached from behind her, the female mage who seemed more like a wanderer than a spellcaster, her steps so light that even decaying leaves wouldn't make a sound.
“Chaos, pure chaos.” Isis closed her eyes, allowing her demonic eyes to rest from their overloaded work. “Even within the magic cocoon, the magic network’s warp and weft can no longer operate according to normal laws. Some nodes have completely disappeared, while others have swelled to the point of almost exploding. Just as you felt, casting spells has become like playing a concerto with broken strings—and that’s after you and I have both accepted His divine power…”
“Bane’s army will arrive tomorrow.” Kevoran walked along the path by the pool, the warrior’s expression grave, his eyes gleaming with the calm of a seasoned warrior. Though not a Shadow Valley native, he had become the core of the defenses here over the past few days. “The scouts have just reported that they have crossed Blackpeak Pass.”
Isis didn't turn around, continuing to gaze at her reflection in the pool. "The number?"
“At least thirty thousand.” Kavoran walked to her side and unfolded a roll of parchment. “About twenty thousand heavy infantry, five thousand cavalry, three thousand archers, and several hundred black knights and sorcerers. Bane has invested a lot of resources in mobilization.”
Haxgard, the acting captain of Shadow Valley, a robust veteran, emerged from the shade of a nearby tree and joined the conversation. "We can mobilize fewer than five hundred warriors, and even with civilian volunteers, the total doesn't exceed two thousand. To fight ten against one in the current situation is simply suicide."
Isis frowned.
Hax was not a pessimist, but he spoke a truth that everyone knew: in wars directly intervened by the gods, there was very little that mortals could do.
“Why are you staying?” Isis asked, her gaze shifting from Hax to the busy Shadow Valley residents not far away. “Bane is the god of darkness and lies; your resistance will only enrage him further.”
“Because…this is my home.” Hax sighed, his tone carrying a certain fatalistic composure. “Unlike you adventurers who roam the world. I was born here, grew up here, and have devoted my entire life to this land…The old sage once said that I am a tree rooted here, and will eventually be buried here and rot. I will never be moved, and neither will Bane’s henchmen.”
Isis and Midnight exchanged a glance—the old sage was Elminster. They had come here following the guidance of the goddess of magic, Mystra, to find Elminster and hopefully obtain clues about the Tablet of Fate from him, but they happened to stumble upon Bane's invasion.
"How are your defenses going?" Isis finally asked Kevoran, her finger tracing a line in the air, causing a rune to flicker. The chaotic magic made the rune unstable, swaying like a candle flame in the wind.
"The first line of defense is outside the birch forest. We built a barrier using fallen logs and stones, and also dug trap trenches," Kevoran pointed to the map. "The second line is on the west bank of Krag Pool. The terrain there is narrow, so I designed a breachable system that can divert flash floods into the enemy's path if necessary. The third line..."
“Wait,” a sharp voice interrupted Kevoran. A tall, thin man in Shadowvale militia uniform approached, his eyes gleaming with suspicion. “Why should we take orders from an outsider? You’re not even from Shadowvale!”
An awkward silence fell over the scene. Indeed, Kevoran, Isis, and Midnight were all outsiders who had been unexpectedly drawn into the war.
“I was on the city walls during all five sieges of Sentia, participated in the rear raid during the Battle of Saiyada, and served as a mercenary captain in the street fighting of the Flame Fist Mercenary Group.” Kevoran’s voice was calm and powerful. “You can question my background, but you cannot question my battlefield experience.”
“Walter, that’s enough.” Haxgard stepped forward and patted the militiaman on the shoulder. “In the current situation, we need all the help we can get. Kavoran’s tactical layout is the most comprehensive I’ve ever seen. Without him, we wouldn’t even last a day.”
Walter wanted to argue further, but Hax's imposing gaze ultimately led him to remain silent and back down.
“You haven’t mentioned the third line of defense yet,” Midnight reminded him.
“I set up the third line of defense on the high ground outside the town,” Kevoran continued, pointing to the location on the map, “but I also deployed a third of my troops to guard the mountain roads behind the town.”
This time, not only Walter, but also the other warriors of Shadow Valley looked up in surprise.
"One-third?" a white-bearded veteran repeated incredulously. "Our frontline forces are already insufficient, and now we have to disperse them?"
“Bane won’t just attack from the front.” Kevoran’s voice became unusually firm. “He will divide his forces to flank us from the rear and cut off our retreat. This is a basic tactic. I personally witnessed an entire army being surrounded and annihilated in this way during the Desert War.”
The atmosphere inside suddenly became tense. The militiamen whispered among themselves, clearly disagreeing with the outsider's assessment. In their view, holding the front line was already an almost impossible task, and further dispersing their forces would be tantamount to suicide.
"I support Kevoran's deployment." Haxgard's voice broke the noise, clear and powerful. "The Battle of Thevanton a few years ago was due to neglecting the rear defenses, resulting in Cormier's Purple Dragon Knights attacking from behind and ultimately leading to its fall. History should not..."
Chapter 289
This should happen again.
Harks' words were like a heavy stone thrown into water, the ripples silencing everyone. As the most senior warrior of Shadow Valley, his opinion carried unparalleled weight.
“Thank you, Captain Harker.” Kevoran nodded. “Now, let’s continue our discussion on the preparations for the fourth line of defense.”
As Kevoran continued to explain his defense plan, Isis's gaze fell upon the faces of the Shadow Valley inhabitants. What she saw was not determination and courage, but fear and despair hidden beneath the surface.
"What did you see?" Midnight asked softly, noticing Isis's attention had shifted.
“Fear, pure fear,” Isis whispered in reply. “Bane is reaping not only lives, but also beliefs.”
After the casual conversation before the war council ended, Isis and the others went to the highest point of the town, which was the lord's mansion. Lord Moglin of Shadow Valley had ceded his home to Hax as his command post, just as three ancient red dragons had stormed into Shadow Valley a few years ago when the Red Dragons Soared.
Of course, he wasn't backing down; he simply knew what he was truly good at and what he should do now.
Lord Moglin arrived late, and Haxgard relayed Elminster's message to him, while Kevoran reported on the battle plans. By dusk, everyone's positions in the battle were arranged. Kevoran, Isis, and Haxgard, along with Moglin's main force, would be stationed on the eastern border, where it was predicted that Bane's army would launch a frontal attack.
Cyric's task was to guard the bridge over the Asaba River and assist in the evacuation of refugees leaving via the river to the shelters in Misty Valley. Archers were already in position in the forest between Fernra and Shadow Valley, setting traps for Bane's army.
“I guess Elminster still thinks the real battle will take place at the Temple of Losanda,” Moglin said wistfully. “We need him to help guard the border! He even dragged Midnight and Eden over there… By the grace of Tamora, we have to reason with him.”
“I’m afraid we’ll be the first to accomplish this,” Haxgard laughed. “Luckily, we managed to get Isis.”
Moglin laughed too. "Perhaps you're right, Elminster has indeed been guarding the valley. But if I could pry even a little information out of him, that would be something I could boast about for the rest of my life!"
The pre-war meeting had ended, and looking out the window, Isis could see that the entire Shadow Valley was shrouded in an eerie stillness.
The women prepared bandages and herbs, the children were placed in relatively safe caves, and all those who could take up arms stood on the defensive line. But there were no impassioned oaths, no declarations of unwavering defense of their homeland, only a suppressed silence and acceptance of their impending fate.
On the distant horizon, the torches of Bane's army had formed a bright line, slowly approaching Shadow Valley. Each torch represented an enemy, and thousands of flames formed a terrifying fire dragon, winding and coiling as it crawled toward the town.
Isis closed the window; it was late, but she couldn't sleep. She paced back and forth in the makeshift command post, her demonic eyes constantly scanning the changes in the magic network. Magic flowed within her, preparing her for the upcoming battle.
A soft knock interrupted her thoughts. The door opened, and Kevoran stood there, looking just as tired yet alert.
"Can't sleep?" he asked, his voice tinged with weariness.
“You are the same,” she replied.
Kavoran entered the room, his gaze falling on the spellbook and runes spread out on the table. "Any discoveries?"
Isis shook her head. "Spells become unstable in turbulent years; prophetic spells cannot function properly. The future is shrouded in a thick fog; only blurry fragments can be seen."
Kevoran nodded, seemingly unsurprised by the answer. "Why did you stay? The three of you could have left with valuable magical knowledge."
Isis stopped and looked out the window at the pitch-black night sky, where not a single star could be seen, as if even the light had been swallowed up by Bane's darkness.
“Responsibility,” she replied simply.
Kevoran nodded thoughtfully, without pressing for details about what that "responsibility" was. He simply stood there quietly for a moment, then turned to leave.
“Kevlaran,” Isis called out to him, “your rear defenses… I hope you’re right.”
Kavoran turned around, a barely perceptible smile appearing on his face. "Get some sleep, mage. Tomorrow will be a long day."
Isis watched him leave, then returned to her study of runes. On the parchment on the table, she had already drawn seven different battlefield spells, each adapted to the current chaotic magical network environment. But she knew very well that even the most powerful spells could not compensate for their absolute numerical disadvantage, unless… but that was impossible; they were too far from Dragon Territory. She now regretted not having learned more about warfare from that mysterious mentor back in Dragon Territory; perhaps things wouldn't be so passive now.
"Still not asleep?" The midnight voice came from the window, where she sat on the windowsill like a black statue.
"And you?" Isis asked in return.
“I just wanted to see you.” Midnight jumped into the room. “The ravens I sent out have returned, with no news of reinforcements. Mystron’s maze has expanded to Fuenra, and there’s absolutely no trace of Lady Storm.”
Isis was silent for a moment. Storm Silverhand, the chosen one of the goddess of magic, the guardian of Shadow Valley, had disappeared at the most crucial moment. "Then, it's just us."
Midnight nodded, a rare hint of worry flashing across her face. “I just surveyed the entire village. The people are terrified, Isis, terrified. Bane’s spies have been operating here for a long time, spreading terrifying stories about the wrath of the gods. Some villagers have even started praying to Bane, hoping to gain His mercy.”
“Fear and despair are the sacrifices Bane wants,” Isis said in a low voice, a hint of anger flashing in her eyes. “He makes them give up hope, makes them believe that resistance is futile, so that when conquest comes, He can reap the sweetest fruits of fear.”
"what can we do?"
Isis took a deep breath, a resolute glint in her eyes. "We will confront them head-on. Not for victory, but to prove that resistance is meaningful even in despair. Fear will not be the final answer."
Midnight looked at Isis, a hint of admiration flashing in his eyes. "You sound just like Mystra herself."
"You're the same." A slight smile played on her lips.
“Go and rest,” she said to Midnight. “Tomorrow, we will rewrite history, or become part of history.”
Outside the window, the flames of Bane's army drew ever closer, like a fiery dragon about to devour everything. The final night in Shadow Valley, intertwined with fear and resolve, slowly passed.
49. Choose
And this is precisely the source of Casalos's unease.
Isis was its earliest confidante, almost its closest human in the world. Now, this little girl, who should have safely grown into a "triple-threat academician" in Dragon Territory, has been drawn into the vortex of the Saints' Game due to a moment of weakness—as Isis's mentor, can Casalos really extricate itself from this mess?
Iron Dragon couldn't help but think of the spacetime turbulence area it had avoided on its way to Damara. If it hadn't been for the pseudo-Laplace's demon's route guidance, it might have been randomly teleported to Bane Fortress back then!
"We can't just ignore it." It murmured in dragon language, shaking its massive head, spreading its wings and soaring into the air, overturning the tent. The wind and snow rushed in, scattering maps and documents, obscuring the faces of the soldiers. Many of them couldn't wait for this "troublesome" dragon to leave.
Fiona
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They quickly followed, and Rosely took off a little later, with the other Atheros in the tents also taking off.
The soldiers stationed outside the Damara camp all looked up, watching the dragons rise, and a flurry of discussion ensued. Galos Dragon Nightmare stood amidst the wreckage of a tent, thoughtfully observing the scene.
The other Atheros around the large tent also stirred, looking at each other and then at their knights, before flapping their wings in preparation for takeoff. Although they didn't know what was happening, they figured they should just give chase.
"Why are you following us? This is not something you can get involved in. Just stay here and help Dragon Nightmare hold off Damara," Casalos turned to the restless dragons and shouted, "This will be our new home from now on..." His imposing manner caused the group of Atheros to immediately fold their wings and obediently land back on the ground.
After calming the agitated Atheros, Casalos turned to Fiona and Lothley: "You two stay here and continue to maintain the front line. When Kara returns, let her take over command of the front line after Dragon Nightmare left. She has been leading the Dragon Knight Legion on my behalf, and no one will question her."
"Where are you going?" Fiona asked, puzzled. "Is it because of news about Isis?"
“Cormier,” Casalos replied curtly, “is a matter of great importance, there’s no time to explain. I must leave immediately.”