Chapter Text
‘Tu’narath mla’ghir.'
The words thundered in Lae’zel’s head as she lay in bed. Her face contorted in disgust. She was no saint and certainly no messiah. Though the entire future of the Githyanki people rested on her aching shoulders, she found little consolation in the thought of being called a liberator. She felt the qua’nith under her pillow and remembered who had given it to her.
"Voss," she breathed.
Then, a thud. A roar.
The wooden floorboards shook beneath the warrior, and she sat up, abruptly ending her rumination.
"Graaaaaaaah!"
With feline swiftness, she pirouetted onto the armoire that stood by the door to her pod. Another otherworldly roar permeated the air around her, and her nails dug into the wall behind her for stability as the guttural bellow of the creature shook the structure around her.
'Tsk’va, what in the Nine Hells was that?!'
Her mind raced as the reverberations grew to a steady rhythm, as though something large were thumping the side of the ship she was on. The cup of water that sat on her nightstand trembled, then collapsed onto the floor. The water soaked through her knapsack. She groaned at the sight.
'These so-called spelljammers bear the brunt of force in a surprisingly adequate manner. I hope it remains that way.' She tutted. 'Though, I am loath to see the contents of my pack when this is done.'
There was a commotion on the upper decks. Lae’zel’s ears perked up, and she immediately knew what they were: preparations to defend against a surprise attack. But from what enemy, she had no clue. Though her body remained still atop the armoire, her lower lip trembled at the thought of what potential horror the Astral Sea had produced. She shook her head.
'Bah! Pull yourself together. You are Lae’zel of K’liir. You have come here with a purpose.'
With that final thought, Lae’zel jumped off the armoire and landed with a soft thud. She donned the silver, ruby-encrusted armor that lay waiting at the foot of her bed and tied the leather straps attached to the back of the half-plate to her body. She grabbed the hilt of a large silver sword, possessing the same ostentatious decoration as her armor. She hurriedly made her way up the steps that led to the deck above her pod. The vibrations grew stronger, and the bellows louder.
"Prepare yerselves, men! We’ve a mean yeller-slitherer portside!"
A rough-looking man garbed in a navy-blue overcoat and a rustic belt held onto the railing of the ship. The hem of the overcoat was lined with wavelike undulations of gold; the tassels on the ends of its shoulder pads moved like tiny snakes, and its metallic buttons glistened with a silver kobold emblem. Several dozen kobold and Githyanki crew filtered out from below the deck. Each took to their stations. The man hastily approached Lae’zel and pointed to the side of the ship the creature was on.
"Lass, we’ve got a slitherer on our tail. And it appears to be quite hungry, eying the Silver Kobold like a manticore looks at an unlucky adventurer who just stumbled on its lair."
Lae’zel grimaced at the nickname but made no comment on it. She looked off to the side of the ship the captain was pointing at.
There, enveloped by the milky haze of the Astral Sea, was an Astral Dragon. Its body undulated in a snakelike manner as it floated near the ship. Its intense yellow eyes betrayed an insatiable hunger. It continued to slam into the side of the ship, hoping to ram it off course and into its lair.
"Something is not right about this creature," Lae’zel said. "Astral Dragons only grow to that size when they’ve successfully found a mate. But I do not see another." Her brow began to furrow, and she approached the opposite end of the ship. She hoped not to see what she thought she would.
Captain Ry’dan looked to the other side of the ship, half-expecting another dragon to sidle up next to them. He shook his head and rubbed his bearded chin.
"You’re right. Summat ain’t right at all."
The ship threatened to topple as the dragon heaved its heavy body on the vessel’s side. The crew panicked as several of them tumbled from their stations. Those manning the starboard side managed to remain on their feet, but their expressions betrayed fear.
"Captain," a breathless Gith approached the captain, running. Her lungs struggled against the tightly laced bodice and half-plate wrapped around her torso. "We can’t get a good lock onto the dragon. It seems to be deflecting our every projectile. What do you want us to do?"
Ry’dan tugged on his chin beard. He hurriedly approached the woman, half-expecting her to faint from her exertion.
"Focus, lieutenant. Steady yer breathing." He paused poignantly. "We must take out the Tu’athan."
The lieutenant looked at the captain and nodded with a steely gaze. “As you command, captain.” She quickly ran off and under the deck. Lae’zel broke her concentration on the sea before her and looked back. Ry’dan had a solemn look on his face that she did not miss. She approached the captain hesitantly.
“There is no sign of the mate. But that does not mean we are in the clear.” She exhaled and closed her eyes. 'Focus, do not falter.'
Ry’dan looked off to the sea, arms behind his back. He fingered mindlessly the heavy signet ring that rested on his thumb. The dragon came around the ship, continuing its attacks on the starboard side. Both clung onto the railings nearby. Lae’zel let out a grunt.
“Petra’ll bring out the Tu’athan. Whatever mate we may encounter will go down with its other half.”
“Chk, you are rash to bring out such a device. I hope you are prepared to use it wisely.”
The captain maintained a stoic façade as he gripped onto the railing for support.
“I trust in my lieutenant.”
After a few minutes of white-knuckle gripping the vessel’s railing, Lae’zel saw Lieutenant Petra emerge from below deck with the Tu’athan in hand. A cumbersome device, it took most of the lieutenant’s strength to carry it to its designated spot. Ryd’an hurried over to help her.
“Cap’n,” the lieutenant began, hesitating. “Should we really be doing this?” She shifted uncomfortably on her feet as she stood at attention.
“If the reports’re true on these things, they’re slinkier than hydras and twice as fast. We must strike true and strike quickly. Thus I say, and thus it’ll be so.” The captain grimaced. He knew there was a steep price to pay for using the Tu’athan—its metallic shell only barely contained a powerful harness of psionic energy within. Using it meant sacrificing a part of a Githyanki’s own psionic powers. Powers that took months, even years, to recover—time they could not afford.
Ry’dan steadied himself. It must be done, he thought. He approached the psionic vessel with purpose in each stride and placed himself squarely in the middle of its exposed core. The pneumatic tube within the device whirred to life, and its core sparked purple. Deep-speech whispers filled his mind as the device sensed the hesitation within the Githyanki captain. Petra sealed him within its chambers.
‘Ymg' ahnythor ahuaaah ya. Harness ya r'luhh. Ymg' goka energy.’
The captain grimaced. He could not let the blasphemous tongue get to him. He suppressed the whispers and continued with his plan.
Lae’zel watched the captain’s actions curiously from afar, her eyes darting back and forth between the Astral Dragon and the Tu’athan. She had never seen such a device, only known of its existence through the writings kept within the archives of her home creche. She both respected and feared it. She knew perfectly well what it was capable of, which was why she kept her distance.
The Astral Dragon reared its head. It landed squarely on the hull of the ship, its tail curling around its feet. The ship lurched forward with the weight of the dragon, yet it remained miraculously afloat—as if through some sort of psionic tampering. It looked to the charging Tu’athan, and then directly at Lae’zel. It spoke not with words, but with thoughts.
“I am Vaerynth, Predator of the Seas and keeper of balance. I urge you to stay your weapons, for I am laden with a charge all my own to deliver unto thee, Lae’zel of K’liir.”
Lae’zel fell to her knees and screamed, her head throbbing with an overwhelming surge of psionic energy. She beat at the floor with her fists. She could not let this thing invade her mind in such a way. This dragon was not aligned with their cause. Its blood flowed not with Tiamat’s pact. It was its own creature.
“My mind is hallowed ground, Kresh’ar! Speak to me your charge, but do not dare tread where you are not invited to do so!”
The dragon remained stoic. It shifted closer to Lae’zel, as if stalking prey.
Captain Ry’dan heard none of this, and so he continued charging the Tu’athan with his own psionic energies. Lae’zel’s mind went numb. Her body froze where it had fallen. The crew watched in awe and fear as the creature’s piercing yellow eyes retained the hunger that had driven it there in the first place.
The kobolds below rushed onto the deck to witness the grandeur of the Astral Dragon.
“You know not the rueful purpose you have traveled so far to fulfill; you know not the chaos it will sow. I know, and I will tell thee.”
“You, the dreamer who whispers of rebellion and Orpheus’ promise—your thoughts are loud and dangerous. Do you think the Lich Queen’s fall would herald freedom?”
Lae’zel’s breath hitched in her throat. How does it know my purpose?
The dragon tilted its head, its psionic voice reverberating through Lae’zel’s skull.
“I know many things. I know, for one, that your foolish rebellion would birth anarchy, severing the Githyanki from their purpose. A fractured people, scattered prey for others in the Astral Sea. Such chaos threatens not only them but also my existence, for I dine on their strength, their psionic essence. Their strife is my sustenance. So it has been, so it shall be. If you stay your weapon, I will spare thee.”
Though the dragon’s voice boomed loudly in Lae’zel’s mind, its words carried a barely perceptible tone of desperation. It knew it had been cornered, knew it would be no match for the pure, unbridled energy of the psionic cannon about to fire in its direction.
Lae’zel steadied her breath and laboriously clambered to her feet despite the forces holding her in place.
“You cannot break the ties that bind.” She heaved a foot up and planted it down in front of her. “My fate is my own to decide.” Another step forward.
“… And I will not back down.”
A subtle hum of energy gathered around them. It first began imperceptibly, gradually rising to a steady crescendo. An energetic field enveloped the Tu’athan, and a terrible scream echoed from within its chamber.
Through the chaos, few words could be made out. Captain Ryd’an had to bark them out to be heard.
“Use the Tu’athan! Now!”
Without hesitation, Lieutenant Petra aimed the Gaussian cannon at the Astral Dragon and fired.
Boom.
A deafening silence followed, then a ringing in Lae’zel’s ears—before her vision darkened.