Jeff Inlo - Nightmare's Shad

"I'm sorry. It all got away from me. I know you told me to clear my mind, but when I saw Enin…" she could not continue.

Holli grew weary with the sorceress.

"Yes, you're sorry. I know, but what are you sorry for? Are you sorry you have no control over the magic or are you sorry that you failed to follow my instructions? I can accept the first, but not the second. If you saw everything I saw, then you know what's coming at us. I'm going to need your power when they get here, and I can't allow you to continue making the same mistakes."

Heteera almost recoiled from the harsh words… almost. But it was true. Being sorry was not helping the situation. She could not control the magic within her, but she was not being asked to control it. Her power could help win this battle, but only if she allowed others to use it. In the very near future, she had to do more than just be sorry. If not, they would all be dead.

Holli ignored the sorceress. Heteera's last mistake was not that crucial. The barrier was destroyed, but in her mind, that mattered little. It would serve to hasten the invaders arrival, but that mattered even less. Those who gathered at Pinesway were already prepared to battle. Time was not something they needed.

She then thought of the group heading into the desert. She hoped Ryson was also prepared.

Ryson waited for the obstruction within the tunnel to collapse. The passage had been used before, both by dwarves that attacked the algors and sand giants that in turn marched on Dunop. The way had been blocked, but the dwarves were known to make easy work of such obstructions.

The rocks blocking the passageway fell downward into a sub tunnel that had been quickly constructed beneath the main passage. Once clear, dwarves filed past the settling dust toward the sandstone cliffs that waited just beyond a few twists and turns of the catacombs.

Ryson met the leader, a battle force commander named Kevok Mettelston, and after quick introductions, the delver made a most surprising revelation to the dwarf leader.

"The algors don't want your help," the delver revealed.

The force commander's eye's widened a bit in surprise and then squinted into an angry glare.

"They refuse?"

"They do."

"The reason?"

Ryson really didn't want to explain, didn't want to lay that kind of fault at the feet of the dwarves that were there to help, but he had no choice.

"They still blame you, all of the dwarves, for attacking them."

The dwarf commander made the obvious counterpoint.

"And do they forget the sand giants they set upon Dunop?"

"No, I guess they feel that was simply a response to your attack… that it was justified."

The dwarf nearly shouted in rage, but caught his anger. Eventually, Kevok turned upon the diplomacy that brought him and the thousands of dwarf warriors to the cursed tunnels of baking heat. None of the dwarves behind him-dwarves ready to do battle, ready to die-had been forced to march through tunnels under the desert. They all volunteered. They wished to right a wrong, remove a stain of the past.

"The algors are entitled to their point of view," Kevok allowed. "In fact, it is even more reason for us to be here. If the algors believe that creating an army of sand giants to destroy a dwarf city was justified by the misguided attack of fanatical dwarves, then they must agree to let us restore our honor. We have an obligation to prove we are not the same dwarves that preyed on the innocent."

"I wish they would agree, really, and I have talked to them. But they're adamant about this. I don't mean to insult you, but they don't care about your honor. I think the wounds may be too recent for them. It's also… it's hard to explain, but as much as they try to be independent, they view themselves as a single entity. When one is killed, they seem to all suffer." Ryson paused. Not wanting to incite the dwarf, he searched for the right words, words that eluded him. "They lost a great number. I think that multiplies the grief for them more than it would for any other race. It's like everyone lost thousands of fathers, mothers, sons and daughters."

Kevok frowned. "Dwarves understand loss as well, Ryson Acumen. You were in Dunop when the sand giants attacked us. How many fathers, mothers, sons and daughters of dwarves were lost that day?"

"A great many," Ryson responded with great torment at the memory. "Too many."

"And should we then call it even? We attacked them, they attacked us. What's done is done? We don't think so. We are here for that very reason, because we are ashamed of what happened. Are the algors not also ashamed?"

"I don't know what to say," Ryson admitted. "I just know they don't want your help. I believe they would probably attack you if they find you invading their home."

"Attack? Invading? Fah, if we were invading, they would know it."

"I'm sure they would, but I did try to talk to them. I tried to convince them your intentions were honorable. I saw the anger and the pain. I'm not saying it's justified. I'm just saying it's there. So if you go forward-not invading, just wanting to help-and they see you as an enemy, what happens in these tight caverns?"

Kevok examined the surrounding catacombs near the sandstone edifice and looked back upon the long line of dwarf soldiers ready for battle. They stood at attention, but he could sense their growing impatience. These dwarves wanted to wash away the dishonor on their reputation, but honor was a two way street in his eyes.

"You have informed them of our intentions, but you still believe they see us as an enemy?"

"I do."

"Fah."

And Kevok frowned again. He took another look back upon those ready to die for the algors that would continue to view them as an enemy. His pride in his troops grew, just as his opinion of the algors sank.

"Perhaps we will go forward anyway. They would not dare attack two battalions of war-ready battle dwarves. They may not wish to accept our help, but it is not entirely up to them. Word has spread as to what is about to happen. The dwarves that work with the humans of Connel-humans smart enough to accept when a dwarf admits he's wrong-have relayed the story of the slink ghoul and the impending war with the dark creatures. The desert is of strategic importance to all the land. It is as much in our interest to protect the desert as it is the algors. Inform them that we are coming anyway. If they don't wish to view it as assistance, that is their problem, not mine."

Ryson didn't like the sound of that and he imagined what would happen.

"It may be everyone's problem. You may not think they'll attack, but I'm not so sure. I've also seen what they've been up to. They've been preparing to face a legion of dark creatures and they're ready for a battle. I'm not saying they could defeat all of your soldiers, but it would be a mess. And who wins in the end? The very creatures you came here to fight."

Kevok folded his arms across his chest. With further contemplation, he considered the predicament.

"You believe they would still attack us… despite the fact that a slink ghoul's legion is upon their doorstep?"

Ryson nodded.

Kevok almost laughed, but he also found respect for the algors. Dwarf pride was legendary, but perhaps algor pride was also worthy of admiration. The algors would face certain annihilation, but they would also apparently not forget their dead. Some might look at it as pointless arrogance, even unjustified vengeance, but Kevok could not dismiss the true emotion behind the sentiment.

Accepting the algors' decision, he turned his musings to his own situation. He understood his mission and the needs of the dwarves. One objective was to restore the honor of Dunop. They had hoped to fight alongside algors, to prove their integrity. In his eyes, that proof already existed. It was now the algors' pride that kept the races apart. Dwarf honor was no longer in question. It had been restored. That part of his mission was now complete.