Jeff Inlo - Nightmare's Shad

A staggering number of shags crested over a tall dune in the distance. Despite being territorial creatures that would attack their own kind, the giant upright monsters of powerful limbs, matted fur, and sharpened fangs charged across the desert like a well-trained army. They maintained close ranks and moved with clear purpose. They would reach the frontlines of the battle in mere moments, or so Ryson thought.

The delver raced forward to meet the charge, hoping to divert and distract them by cutting through the center of their ranks with his blinding speed. He could not hope to halt them completely, but he could certainly delay them.

As he raced to the top of the nearest dune, he reached a strategic position that overlooked a low lying ravine. The first line of shags rambled to the bottom of the gorge before the delver. When they hit the leveled ground, it exploded before them.

Hundred upon hundreds of sand giants rose from loose sand and dirt. They took hold of the stunned shags and dispatched the astonished creatures with ferocious savagery. Even the largest and most powerful shags could not match a sand giant's strength. The carnage was beyond description.

The shags, however, continued forward, moved by some unseen hand that urged them onward despite their losses. It was a sickening strategy, but one not without merit. As dead shags piled up around the sand giants, many of the stone titans became confused and even trapped within the mass of corpses. Their efficiency waned as they struggled to battle the seemingly endless rush of fur laden monsters.

Many of the shags charged over the tops of their fallen brethren and leapt safely over the sand giants as if knowing their fight rested not with animated rock but with the algors that waited beyond the next dune.

Ryson watched this turn with growing dread. The true moment of his involvement in battle had finally arrived. He could not have these shags reach the algors unchallenged. He needed to do more than distract them. He had to stop them.

Even with war blades in each hand, he instinctively wished to pull the Sword of Decree from its sheath on his back. The sheath, however, was empty… the sword back in some cave in the dark lands. He would not be able to use the magical energy of the sword to burn the very essence of his enemies. He would not be able to encourage their retreat with the threat of its glowing blade. He would have to rely on the sharp edge of plain steel and the death he would deal.

A heavy burden fell upon him, a decision to make, but it was already made for him. Where was the choice? None existed.

He removed the regret he knew he would feel from his mind. He focused on the charging shags. He would kill as many as he could. He didn't want to… the thought sickened him. He swallowed hard and resolved to save as many algors as possible. He raced toward the hairy beasts in a blur of furious motion.

The weapons twirled in his hands. They became spinning blades of death. He struck without hesitation and moved to kill as quickly as possible. Cutting through the long line of rushing shags, he left his own number of staggering casualties. He would not look back on the dead and dying monsters, only forward on those that dared to move past him with the intent to kill the algors Ryson vowed to defend.

As he accepted his role in this tragic battle, Ryson became a killing machine, his part in the fight irreparably sealed. The choice of joining the struggle was no longer a question. The choice had been made. One day he might regret it, and just as the dwarves sought to restore their honor, he might seek some kind of redemption. Within the struggle, however, such considerations became irrelevant.

Back and forth across the sand, he intercepted every shag that managed to break past the sand giants. Ignoring the heat of the day and the shifting, unsteady ground, Ryson blocked everything else from his mind. He ignored the screeching shrieks of the hook hawks behind him and the murderous howls of the shags still in the distance. He fought off fatigue, fought off fear. He focused completely on his own part-became part of the battle, part of the struggle.

The number of shags that Ryson had to dispatch slowly began to diminish. Sprinting over greater distances to reach his next target, the delver placed greater attention on the algor creations that served as the front line.

Pressing through the shag carcasses, the sand giants continued their assault. Though their movement had for a time been slowed, they pushed away the dead and began to move more freely. Stepping forward and beyond the carnage that had once blocked their path, they met the continuing shag rush with indifference to the blood thickening upon the desert floor.

If there was any solace, Ryson began to sense an end to the conflict, and he believed they actually had a chance to win with minimal algor casualties. He and the sand giants effectively countered the shag threat and the algors had proven they could stand against the aerial assault.

In fact, the number of shags began to decrease dramatically. They faltered against the sand giants, and those that made it past could not outmaneuver the fast moving delver.

Soon the sand giants were left to chasing a few remaining stragglers. Many of the stone sentinels stopped all movement as they scanned the terrain before them, but found nothing but empty rock and sand. They were creations of a single purpose-to defend the algors against aggressors. The grounds around them, however, were now all but empty of such invaders.

With no more shags breaking past the sand giants, Ryson turned his attention back to the algors. He could see some of the sandstone cliffs behind him and realized that the number of winged monsters had dwindled as well. He marveled at the situation.

Could they have already won?

Just scant moments ago, such a possibility seemed out of reach, and yet he could not deny the scene before him. The shags had been decimated by the raw power of the sand giants. The flying dark creatures could simply not overcome the algors' ability to restore health to the casualties they inflicted. The threat was not only dwindling, it was disappearing completely.

It seemed to Ryson that magic had again won the day-magic placed in the stone statues that created animated warriors and magic that healed all but the dead algors. The energy had been used in different ways, and although it allowed creatures of nightmare to invade the land, it also helped repel them. There was a benefit to the energy that flowed across the land, and if that was so, maybe it could also be used to defeat Baannat once and for all.

At that moment, however, Baannat was still a threat, still hiding in the dark realm looking for ways to cause pain and suffering. His army was defeated, but he was not. The ghoul still had his objectives and his targets. It seemed he lost in the desert, but the delver knew the ghoul would not simply give up. Ryson thought of Linda. It was time for him to return to the north.

It was in that same moment the ground rumbled.

"Interesting battle out in the desert, don't you think?" Baannat asked. "Oh, I forgot, you can't see it, can you? You really can't see much of anything. How is that for you? You're used to seeing so much, aware of so many things. And now, all you can see is me? That must be difficult for you."

Baannat deliberately needled the trapped wizard, but he spoke the truth as well. The ghoul knew the extent of Enin's confinement, understood the restrictions on the wizard's awareness. Where Baannat could utilize the incompleteness of his own existence to reach out from the emptiness of a new realm of nonexistence, he knew such connections defied his rival.

These truths hounded Enin, left him grasping for absent hope. The space that enveloped his consciousness served more as a tomb than a place to explore. His lack of any physical attribute amplified his misery as his consciousness simply existed in a gray hole of nothingness. He could see Baannat, though not with his eyes. His mind simply registered the closeness of the ghoul. Beyond that, he was surrounded by unmoving shadow. His consciousness existed in emptiness-nothing more.