Paul Kemp - Shadowrealm

The radiance bursting from his body shot beams of light in all direction, speared and destroyed dozens of onrushing shadows.

"The nightwalker," he said.

He slipped out of his harness, sat unrestrained on the dragon's neck, one hand griping the rope, as Furlinastis swooped toward the nightwalker. Abelar's body, armor, blade, and soul blazed.

"My gratitude for your service," he shouted to the dragon. "Please forgive me my threats. For a time I lost my way. Now I am found."

He held his blade in both hands and leaped off the dragon's back.

White light veiled the world. He did not see things, he saw into them, through them, saw the nightwalker and shadows for the insubstantial entities they were. The souls of his comrades glowed, their light dimmed only by self-imposed restraints, restraints Abelar had shed.

As he fell, his body ignited with radiance, an apotheosis of light. For a moment, he felt himself motionless, suspended in space, as if he had become the light. He savored the time, thought of Elden, his innocent eyes, his trusting soul. He loved his son-forever.

The moment ended. He plummeted earthward toward the nightwalker.

The creature shielded its face with a forearm, cowered before Abelar.

Abelar's soul swelled. No regrets plagued him or tortured his final thoughts. His mind turned to those he loved, his wife, his father, his son. He laughed, shouted Elden's name as he descended, and his voice boomed over the rain, over the thunder, over the darkness.

The nightwalker melted in the heat of his radiance, disintegrated in the light, and Abelar, blazing, fell through the creature's dissipating form toward the hard earth below.

The sun sets and rises, he thought, and knew he would feel no pain.

Abelar's voice boomed out of the heavens and shook the battlefield with its force.

"Lathander! "

Regg lowered his blade as the battle stalled. He shielded his eyes and watched, awestruck, as his friend's body transformed as it fell from glowing, to luminescent, to blazing, to a radiant dawn sun in miniature that chased away the darkness in the storm and in their souls. For a moment, the bleak, unending night of the Shadowstorm yielded fully to light. Beams of radiance shot in all directions from Abelar's form and annihilated the living shadows.

"Gods," Trewe breathed beside him.

The supernatural terror planted by the nightwalker in Regg's spirit, in all of their spirits, vanished, replaced by a surge of hope. And before that hope, before that light, the nightwalker, immense and dark, cowered.

"Abelar," Regg whispered.

The glowing form of his friend fell in and through the nightwalker like the sword of the Morninglord himself. The towering creature of darkness disintegrated in the luminescence, boiled away into harmless streamers of black mist, the groans of its dying a distant ache in Regg's mind.

Abelar slammed into the earth and lay still. His radiance diminished, ended.

For a long moment, the field was quiet, almost worshipful. Only the patter of the rain could be heard, the sky crying on Abelar's motionless form.

Jiiris's voice rang out, thick and broken with tears. "Abelar!"

Above, a small window opened in the churning black clouds of the Shadowstorm, revealing a flash of sky beyond, painted in the reds, pinks, and oranges of sunrise. Through the window a single beam of rose-colored light shone, cut through the darkness, and fell on Abelar's form. Bathed in the glow, Abelar's body looked whole, his expression peaceful.

The keening of the shadows turned to a groan that Regg felt more than heard. The multitude that remained flitted about in agitation, as if pained.

Regg's eyes welled and he fell to his knees, as did most of the men and women around him. The calm afforded by the light, the sense of hope, of awe, told him that the light was no mere light. It was a path to Lathander's realm, or the hand of the Morninglord himself. His friend had returned to his faith, and had brought faith back to all of them.

Abelar was sanctified. Regg smiled, cried for his friend.

The rose-hued light spread from Abelar to the company and its touched chased off fatigue and fear, closed wounds, reknit bones, returned strength, and planted a seed of hope in all their breasts.

The men and women of the company laughed, cried, and praised their god. The sky closed, the beam of light vanished, and Regg came back to himself, once more noticing the rain and the thunder.

As one the company rushed forward around Abelar, led by Regg and Jiiris.

Abelar's body looked unharmed, as if sleeping, despite the fall, but no breath stirred his breast. Jiiris stepped forward, crouched, stroked Abelar's hair, his cheek. Soft sobs shook hear. Tears smeared the grime of battle on her face. She sank to the ground, took Abelar's head in her lap.

"He smells of roses," she said, and wept.

"He is sanctified," Roen said. "His spirit will not rise in darkness."

Regg found his own eyes welling but he would have to postpone his grief. Many enemies remained. He still had a battle to fight. Lathander, through Abelar, had given them hope. Now they must use it.

"See her from the field," he said to Brend, indicating Jiiris. "Abelar as well. Roen, one of your priests lights their way."

With the help of two others, Brend and Jiiris carried Abelar through the company and away from the battle.

Regg, as well as every other man and women in the company, touched him as they passed. Regg felt a surge upon contact, and the hope planted in his breast blossomed. The light in him, the light he felt usually as a distant, comforting warmth, flared.

It was a sign.

"You are my friend," Regg said to Abelar, as Brend and Jiiris carried him away. A junior priest fell in with them, lighting his wand.

Then Abelar was gone. And darkness yet remained.

The silence over the battlefield ended with a roll of thunder. Lightning lit the sky. Rain fell anew. The keening of the remaining shadows-still a multitude-started once more. They swarmed in an enormous, whirling column.

"Form up," Regg said to his company. "We have been given a sign and the light is in you all."

"And in you," they answered, readying weapons, readying spirits.

A boom of thunder like the breaking of the sky rolled, shook the ground, knocked the men and women of the company to the ground. Lightning ripped the sky, again and again, until the coal-black clouds birthed a coal-black form that descended from the clouds, trailing darkness.

In size and shape it looked much like a man. Membranous wings sprouted from its back but did not flap as it gently descended to the ground. A robe of scaled leather draped its ebon-skinned form. Curving white horns jutted from its brow. Power seeped from the creature in palpable waves.

As surely as Regg knew his god had been present on the battlefield to bless them through Abelar, he knew at that moment that another god had taken the field. He was looking upon the creature that was the provenance of the storm, the origin of the darkness.

The sky again fell silent, the thunder and lightning but a temporary herald for Kesson Rel's arrival.

The column of shadows rendezvoused with their master in the sky, swirled around him as he descended. The moment he set foot on the ground, thunder rumbled and the earth shook anew.

Giant forms stepped out of the shadows to stand beside him, towering humanoids with pale skin and gangly limbs, encased in gray iron. They bore huge swords in their hands. Shadows clung to their flesh and their weapons. There were hundreds of them.

Regg knew the company could not defeat the shadow army and their master. But the hope Lathander had put in his breast would allow him no other course than to hold his ground. They had entered the storm to face the darkness. They would do so and they would die. Abelar was an example to them all.