From: alaric@sti.com (Alaric Tekiahyn)
Newsgroups: alt.pub.cloven-shield
Subject: [Chalamar] Skirmish at the Gate
Date: 22 Jan 1993 03:20:17 GMT
Organization: Software Transformation, Inc.
Distribution: world
NNTP-Posting-Host: smurf.sti.com


[Summary so far:  The expedition to find Chalamar, and the flying ship he
is believed to be seeking, left the Cloven Shield while it was still the
Dragon's Inn and traveled to the Elemental Plane of Shadow.  There, they
procured mounts - horselike creatures native to Shadow, known as destriers -
and set off on their journey.  Their first start was aborted by Sam falling
from his mount and subsequently being attacked by a bloodhawk, a giant hawk
also native to Shadow.  After this was dealt with, though, the next phase
of the journey has been uneventful so far.  Thanks to Alaric's Shadow-
travelling abilities and the speed of the destriers, the party has covered
over a hundred leagues in real distance, and made significant progress
towards the dark pole, in the space of a little over an hour; but,
approaching a ring of Qhalur gates in the center of a vast impact crater,
they have encountered the defeated remnant of a Shade army.]

---------------------------------------------------------------------


The approaching Shade cavalry were mounted on creatures that looked
horselike at first, but had an almost reptilian look at close quarters.
The speed of their mounts, combined with the far greater speed of the
destriers, rapidly closed the distance between the two opposing groups.

The cavalry were spread out into a single crescent-shaped line, trying to
cut the expedition off from the gate.  The expedition members and the
stream of riderless destriers were heading diagonally across the face of
the cavalry line, heading towards the right-hand horn of the crescent.  The
left-hand horn extended out almost parallel with the column of destriers.
Alaric made a fast count as they approached; twelve men and a sergeant, in
a platoon that should have numbered twenty-two in all.

"They're barely above half strength!" he shouted to the rest of the party,
as F'nordren, Urkrea and Dint joined him to form a ragged, widely-separated
line across the left front of the expedition's column.  By the time he had
got the few words out, the gap was gone altogether, and there was no time
for more words.  F'nordren, to Alaric's right and a little ahead, was
bellowing a deep battle-cry, to which Alaric added his own war-cry,
"Tekiahyn!  Tekiahyn!"  A sheet of dull-red flame burst from the blade in
his left hand.  To F'nordren's right, Urkrea  was singing in a soft
baritone as he flew towards the oncoming shades.

To the dismay of the half-elf, his destrier sped to the right of the battle.
Rage filling his voice, Urkrea screamed,
"The battle is to our left, Mount!  You are not long on this plane if my
 code is broken by --"
His last words were lost swallowing his stomach, as the destrier spun hard
to the left, perfectly positioned to cut in front of the end of the Shade
line.

"Oh, my friend, I beg your forgiveness!  Not only do you correct for my
 stupidity, but you give me freedom of my sword-arm!"

Further back, in the midst of the massed destriers, Dafyd was screaming
words into the dark sky - words that somehow slipped sideways around the
consciousness of those who heard them even as they registered, evading
memory and vanishing into mystery.

"Huh, guess our healer is more than a simple herbalist and physician, or
mercenary," Nutsy muttered, watching the approaching line and looking for
the breakthrough that must happen.  Glancing over to Sam's mount, she was
shocked to see it riderless.
"That damn fool has fallen again," she thought, and was about to cry out
when a flicker of fabric at the side of the destrier caught her eye.  She
then realized that Sam was doing  what thieves do best.  Lying flat against
the back of his mount, he had molded himself to contour with its back,
effectively making himself invisible from all but close observation.

Then the two lines crashed together.


F'nordren and Alaric hit the cavalry line almost at the same time, about
fifteen feet apart, Alaric with his two longswords raised above his head,
F'nordren brandishing his heavy broadsword.  To F'nordren's right, Urkrea
was instants behind with his own sword drawn; and further back, to the left,
Dint and his black axe slammed end-on into the left horn of the Shade
crescent.

Windwalker dug in his heels and stopped dead as the two lines met.  The two
Shade troopers he had been about to pass between struck at empty air, unable
to correct their aim in time; then Alaric's longswords flashed downward and
outward.  The rider on Alaric's right toppled from his mount, his chest
cloven half-way to his waist, as the one on the left gurgled what would
have been a dying scream if Alaric's flaming left-hand blade had not just
removed his entire face.
The three remaining riders on Alaric's left plunged past, heading towards
Dint and his axe; the next one on his right was wheeling around to circle
behind F'nordren.  Alaric twisted around and struck overhand with both
swords at once, and that rider dropped as well, gouting purplish blood.
Then the line was past, and Windwalker shot forward again, heading for the
sergeant, some twenty yards behind his troops.
"Typical shade officer," Alaric observed to Windwalker, "leading from the
 rear as usual."


As F'nordren began to lay about with his heavy sword, it appeared as though
his blade had been engulfed in a brilliant blue flame.  F'nordren appeared
to be startled by this, but continued to lay about him with the sword.

As one of the Shade cavalry charged in from his right, scimitar raised,
F'nordren swung his burning sword to the left, removing his opponent's hand
and sword.  Almost as quickly, he reversed the direction of his swing and
neatly removed the shade's head with a backhand.  As he leaned to the left,
the herd stallion anticipated him and turned to that side, in time for
F'nordren to see Alaric dispatch a shade circling around behind him.

"My thanks, Alaric!" he shouted, as he quickly surveyed the battle.  Five
more Shade riders remained on his right; some forty feet away, Urkrea was
about to strike the right horn of the Shade crescent from the outside end,
having circled wide to the right.


Back in the main column of the expedition, Dafyd's chant culminated in a
ragged yell as he thrust his arm at the roiling inky blackness above, and
drew a line from the sky down towards the advancing infantry reinforcements.
A surprised look flashed across his face as a glaring web of blue-white
energy crackled out of the ebony above, to dance across the black stone
pillars of the Gates.  Several of the Shade infantry flinched, but then
realized that the discharge was going harmlessly over their heads.


Meanwhile, Dint recovered from nearly falling off his mount in time to see a
shade cavalryman coming up on him FAST.  It wasn't that the shade was riding
fast, it was that Dint's mount was moving so much faster.  "Slow down!" Dint
yelled to his mount, and she complied instantly.  Behind his opponent were
two others, their scimitars and shields ready.

"Get me in close!" he yelled, and raised his axe high over his head and
behind him, preparing himself to strike.  The first shade swung his scimitar,
striking at Dint's side.  Simultaneously, Dint brought his axe forward,
underneath the shade's shield, and buried its blade deep in the shade's
abdomen.  The blade caught behind a rib, and as the shade fell to the ground,
Dint was pulled off his mount after him, unable to free his axe in time and
unwilling to lose his only weapon.  Hanging onto the axe, Dint landed on top
of the dying shade.  The impact jarred his axe loose, and Dint quickly
rolled to avoid the onrush of the other two shades.  As the second of the
two passed directly over him, he lifted his axe up and split the underside
of the shade's mount from beneath its ribs to its hind quarters.  The
lizard-horse crumpled to the ground, whistling shrilly in mortal agony, and
the rider was thrown forward over its head.  He landed hard, and went
sprawling.


At the head of the column, laughter filled Urkrea's eyes as the two right-
most riders broke line to meet him.  With scimitars raised, they split to
pass on each side of the half-elf, in an obviously well-rehearsed maneuver.
It never occured to them that attacking a poorly-trained line soldier is a
different matter than attacking a seasoned warrior; indeed, their confidence
was shaken only when they saw the grin splitting Urkrea's face.

For his part, Urkrea did nothing to avoid being hit, nor did he slow his
mount.  Rather, he simply continued to fly forward at full speed.  When the
three met, he smashed his shield into the face of the rider on his left,
who toppled from his mount, stunned.  His right-side foe swung his scimitar
down, but only succeeded in striking sparks from Urkrea's armor before
riding through the half-elf's blade.  His mount continued on with legs and
torso, as the shade's head and shoulders fell to the ground.


Meanwhile, Dafyd gestured again, not to be daunted by the strange variety of
lightning that his spell had called on this plane, and another web of energy
crackled downward.  Once again, the Gate pillars drank it in before it could
reach the ground and the advancing Shade infantry.  There was suddenly a
faint, almost electric tension in the air, a sense perhaps that something
was about to happen.  Over by the Gate ring, the infantry quickened their
pace, veering a little wider away from the featureless black columns.


Dint rose to his feet and ran to the fallen shade, now also rising.  He swung
from right to left, and the shade deflected the blow with his shield at the
cost of a deep gash in its edge.  Taking advantage of Dint's seemingly
vulnerable position, the shade countered with a circling,  overhand swing of
his scimitar, briefly exposing his rightside as he did so.  With the
strength of dwarven shoulders, Dint quickly reversed the axe, and brought it
across back hand into the shade's chest, knocking him to the ground before
the scimitar could land.  With a glint in his eye, Dint raised the axe one
last time and finished off the shade with another crushing blow in the center
of his chest.  The third shade had by now turned about, and was heading back
towards Dint, crouched low over his mount's right side, his scimitar raised
to strike and his shield covering him from his knee to just below his eyes.
From the other direction, Dint's mount had also reversed her course, and was
returning to rejoin her rider.
Dint quickly scooped up the second shade's damaged shield, which had fallen
near him, and braced himself for the third shade's attack.  He crouched low,
almost completely covered by the shield, and held his axe ready.


On Dafyd's third gesture, his concentration was slightly off - perhaps
because ofthe battle around him, perhaps because his spell was not
functioning as expected, perhaps because of the sudden tension.  In any
case, this time, instead of the web of lightning again striking down toward
the ground, it crackled through the knot of flat-black curtains of darkness
that hung from the sky above the gates like black aurorae.  The result was
spectacular.
The bolt whipped around the curtains and flashed out in all directions, and
the curtains flared white as lightning bolts ran wildly across the sky.  A
thunderous roar shook the ground, as a solid ring of energy crashed down
from the sky into the gate columns.

There was a sudden wrenching, twisting sensation, and the entire ring of
gates yawned momentarily open into black void.  The air near the gates
rushed into the sudden vacuum with hurricane force.  Most of the advancing
infantry were swept away like leaves, leaving only a small knot of a half-
dozen or so sprawled on the ground, clawing for purchase on the smooth stone.
Further around the ring, the last hundred feet of the main Shade column
seemed to simply vanish.  Then the portals closed again, and the sudden gale
subsided as suddenly as it had arisen.
For a few seconds, there was an almost numbing silence, broken only by the
distant, rattling booms of the last of Dafyd's lightning bolts as they
vanished into the distance.

"Damn!" Dafyd muttered.  "I wasn't trying to _kill_ any of them...."

Approaching Dint, the third and last shade of the three that had charged him
was facing directly toward the Gates when Dafyd's third blast went off.
Momentarily distracted, he let his shield and his scimitar drop slightly as
he involuntarily looked up at the white glare of lightning dancing over the
Gates, and his jaw dropped in shock as he saw his comrades swept away into
nothingness.


As he hewed his third opponent's sword-arm from his body, Urkrea saw the
fourth rider in line speed by, heading for the main body of the expedition. 
Urkrea spun his mount about and rode after him to cut him off, and his voice
floated through the din of the battle.
"Make peace with your ancestors before we meet, Rider," he called, "for
 there will be no time after!"

Unseen behind him, the shade whom he had knocked senseless in his first
attack staggered to his feet, and reached for the closest lizard-horse to
re-mount.


Dint saw the shade lower his guard, but before he could spring his attack, he
felt a rush of wind over his head as his destrier leaped high over him.  She
struck at the distracted shade with her front hooves, knocking him to the
ground and landing just beyond the lizard-horse.  Rather than continuing
onward, she bunched up her hindquarters and let fly at the lizard-horse with
both rear hooves.  There was a sharp SNAP! of breaking bone and it, too,
crashed to the ground.
Unfortunately for Dint, the lizard horse was pushed in his direction.  He
leapt up in time to escape being gaught under the animal, but its legs
flailed out at him as the creature rolled over on the ground.  One leg
snapped as it struck the dwarf; he lost his balance and stumbled to the
ground, his newly-acquired shield knocked away from him.
Dint pushed himself up in time to see his opponent was only dazed, not dead.
He started forward, but felt a pain in his right hip, apparently injured
when the lizard-horse kicked him as it rolled.  Dwarves may be solidly
built, but not so solidly as to be invulnerable.The beast itself writhed in
pain, but could not get to its feet.

Seeing the dwarf limping, the third shade rallied himself and renewed his
attack.  Shouting a strange, shrill battle cry, he charged.
"Good," thought Dint.  "Now I don't have to move!"

He stood and planted his left foot, holding his axe in his right hand with
its blade over his left shoulder.  The shade raised his scimitar high, and
brought it down toward the dwarf in an overhand swing.  Dint leaned forward,
ignoring the pain in his hip, and caught the shade's wrist with his left
hand.  He gripped the shade's arm tight, and pulled him towards him.  The
shade instinctively resisted, throwing all his weight away from Dint.  Dint
released the shade's arm suddenly, and simultaneously brought his axe from
left to right, catching the shade in the neck as he stumbled backwards.  The
shade let out a shriek of pain and surprise, which rapidly turned to a
gurgle as he dropped his scimitar to put his hand over the gaping wound in
his neck, now gushing out purplish blood.  Moving as if his leg wasn't too
badly damaged, Dint swiftly finished off the shade, slamming his axe into
the left side of his opponent's head.

By this time, his destrier mount had turned about once more and joined him.
She hesitated for a moment, then reared above the still-struggling lizard-
horse and slammed both forehooves down on its head, crushing its skull.
She then stood next to its still-twitching body, on the far side from Dint,
and gave him a quizzical look.
Realizing her intention, he scooped up the third shade's shield, stepped up
onto the body of the lizard-horse, and nimbly climbed on from there, his leg
seemingly fine.  He was careful not to injure the destrier with either axe
or shield as he mounted.

"Let's see how the rest are doing," he said to the destrier, and she promptly
sprang forward to rejoin their companions.  He was covered with blood and
gore, but he gave no thought to that - just as he gave no thought to the
wound he had received earlier in his side, of which no sign now remained
save a rent in his clothing.


Believing three of his companions more than adequate to deal with a single
opponent, the Shade trooper who had passed by Urkrea headed for Dafyd,
his dark face a mask of hate.  After Dafyd's lightning had triggered the
Gates, he judged him the most important adversary at the present time.  In
his desire to spill the cleric's blood and avenge his comrades, he neglected
to consider Urkrea.
This oversight cost him dearly, and he lurched forward in sudden pain as
something slammed into his lower back.  He reflexively reached back with
his shield hand to see what had hit him, and the edge of his shield jarred
some object lodged in his mail shirt, bringing a fresh stab of pain and a
gush of blood.  He looked back over his shoulder in time to see Urkrea
pulling a second throwing axe from a sheath along his leg.
Veering away briefly from Dafyd and Ilure, now only a few dozen yards away,
the shade turned to face Urkrea, raising his shield to block the expected
throw.  Instead, of throwing it, though, Urkrea simply laughed, and turned
to head back to the front of the column.
Trying hard to ignore the maniacal half-elf for the moment, the shade
spurred his mount on towards his main objective, the spellcaster and his
damned lightnings.  From apparently out of nowhere, a riderless destrier
mare raced up beside him.

"What in Hades is that beast doing?"  he thought briefly, glancing in that
direction, as his own mount jerked and bucked.  His first assumption was
that the destrier was kicking at his mount, and he tried to simply move his
steed away from the destrier.  His first warning that he had more serious
problems was a sudden pain between his shoulder blades.
He tried to twist around to look behind him, but his muscles would not seem
to answer him.  He finally managed to crane his neck around, only to see the
impossible - a midget human female, or so he presumed, standing on his own
mount's rump and grinning at him.

"Hi, handsome," she said.
"You seem to have a problem.  Let me fix it for you..."
So saying, Nutsy pulled out another dagger.  Still smiling, she continued,
"I've heard acupuncture in the lower neck does wonders for back pain," and
calmly severed his spine at the base of his neck.

She pulled her daggers out of the corpse's back, and tugged Urkrea's throwing
axe free from his mail as an afterthought.
"Damn," she said cheerfully, as the dead shade fell from his mount.  "I
 think I got the wrong spot again.  I must check with Dafyd to see where
 that spot is."
For some reason, her supposed error didn't seem to trouble her too much.
She shrugged, and flipped back to her waiting destrier.
"Oh well - next patient!"


Urkrea, meanwhile, had turned about to see what had become of the remaining
shades at the front of the column.   F'nordren had just beaten down his last
opponent's scimitar, and was about to administer the coup de grace; the shade
Urkrea had shield-bashed earlier had now re-mounted, and was riding towards
him a little unsteadily.  With a beatific smile, Urkrea charged to meet him.
The shade was shouting hoarsely and incoherently as he approached, all
semblance of training and discipline forgotten, his scimitar pointed straight
out ahead of him as though it was a lance.  Urkrea just grinned broadly,
deftly swept the scimitar out of line with his shield, and decapitated the
enraged shade with a backhand draw-cut as he flashed past.  The headless body
careened onward for several seconds, spouting blood, before toppling to the
ground.


On the far side of the column, Alaric sped towards the Shade sergeant.  The
sergeant circled warily sidewise, having just watched almost his entire
remaining unit annihilated by a third of their number; but Alaric had the
advantage of speed, and closed swiftly to within sword-distance.
The fight was startlingly brief.  Alaric made an overhand feint with his
right hand, which failed to draw the sergeant's blade out of position; so he
turned it into a strike instead.  More by luck than by intention, the blow
landed directly on the seam of the sergeant's helm; the helm failed, and
Alaric's sword bit into the sergeant's skull.  The sergeant's scimitar
dropped from nerveless fingers as he toppled from his mount, dying.  Never
one to look a gift horse in the mouth, Alaric ran him through with his
left-hand blade as he fell, then looked around him to see how the rest of
the skirmish was going.

He was just in time to see Urkrea cut down the last remaining cavalryman.
F'nordren's last opponent was already on the ground, in several pieces.
Behind the two of them, the main column was approaching fast, the destriers
slowing as they neared the Gates.  Dint was coming up fast on the right,
liberally splattered with gore, and Nutsy was casually riding up the left
side of the column carrying Urkrea's throwing-axe.

In the other direction, no more than fifty feet away, a half-dozen scattered
footsoldiers were staring in shock at the onrushing force that had just
obliterated their cavalry.  With a short laugh, he brandished both swords
high.

"Flee, weaklings!" he shouted exultantly.  "The Tekiahyn spares you, this
 time!"

The shaken and demoralized footsoldiers needed no further urging.  Almost as
one, they broke and ran.  Alaric headed Windwalker towards the Gates again,
scanning the column to make sure that everyone was accounted for and there
were no stragglers.  Dint, reaching Alaric's prior position, paused to watch
the retreating infantry, just in case any of them mustered enough courage to
try a parting shot.

"To the Gate!" Alaric cried, one more time, as Windwalker carried him into
position at the head of the column; then he turned around and rode directly
toward the Gate and the swirling, sparkling haze that drifted between the
stone pillars.  Feeling for the currents of Shadow, he concentrated, and
exerted his will toward the Gate.

The random patterns suddenly faded, to be replaced by a tunnel of deep, gray
void.  Without the slightest hesitation, he urged Windwalker forward into the
open Gate and vanished.  The destriers poured after him, both those with and
without riders.  Dint, acting once more as rearguard, waited for the very
last moment before he turned his mount and plunged into the Gate.  Moments
after he passed through, the swirling gray vortex puckered and closed, and
like some kind of sleight-of-hand trick, the entire expedition vanished
tracelessly into whatever hidden mysteries lay beyond the Gate.



		-------- To be continued --------


-- 
      "Eternal vigilance is the price of freedom."  --  Thomas Jefferson
    ......................................................................
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