“Go!” orders the dwarven Prince. “With your magical walls and the fresh reinforcements of your troops, we should be able to hold them here for long enough.” Hogan leading, the Defenders turn and run for the heavy doors into the dwarven outpost. Malachite has
Karthos in hand, and the sword
detects undead as they go. Mara tries to
detect evil, but can’t do so when moving quickly.
The group moves quickly along the low and narrow corridors past several intersections, emerging into a large, torch-lit great hall. Neither Malachite, Mara or Karthos detect anything, but Agar’s persistent
arcane sight shows him something disturbing on the far side of the long room. He sees what looks like an elongated shadow stretching along the wall, in a place where no shadow should be.
“Shadow!” the halfling snaps. “Back wall, right side, behind the table.” No one else can see it, but they take Agar at his word, and a
flame strike from Tao slams down on the area, turning the old table into a blazing inferno.
“I can detect something!” says Karthos in his metallic voice, and the group rushes forward to attack. It’s soon apparent that there are two shadows, not one, and agar unleashes
lightning bolts as Mara slides along the top of a table to strike one with her holy mace
Lightbinder. The shadows, vaguely dwarven shaped, don’t last long… but where’s the long and skinny shadow that Agar first saw?
“I can still sense undead,” reports Karthos. “It’s behind us. No, now it’s gone.” The sword is clearly frustrated, and the group looks behind him.
Nolin suddenly looks horrified. “The math! If the shadow is killing dwarves and turning them into more shadows, then… then they’re multiplying! The shadows are going to go after all the dwarves. Soon it will be 3+3=6, then 6+6=12. It'll grow exponentially.” The ease in which they could lose every single dwarf seeps in. They turn and run back the way they came. Through a previously cast
Rary's Telepathic Bond, Nolin mentally warns the dwarven Prince. "You're going to have company! Keep your eyes open for shadows, or they'll overrun the fortress!"
“Suckered!” pants Velendo as he runs. “We’re being lured into the fortress while the dwarves are defenseless against shadows!”
Ahead of him, Agar catches a glimpse of the same long shape, partially merged with a wall in front of them. “There it is!” he cries. One or two others think they can see it now, too, oddly distorted and indistinct.
“It’s old,” says Malachite as he sprints forward. “Very old.” He feels concentrated fear leaching out of it, but his will is indomitable, and the aura that he and Mara give off protect the rest of the group from the terror of its existence.
Tao is there first and swings her weapon at it, but the blade goes right through the dark and blurry form. She swears, and gets the distinct impression that it smiles. Then the familiar smell of psionic energy fills her nose, and every shadow in the passageway shifts and hardens as they turn into ice-cold shadowy blades.
The world is suddenly a whirling, twisting gyre of ice-cold sharpened shadows. Only Galthia leaps entirely clear of them, twisting his body and spinning through the air to avoid them completely. When they vanish a few seconds later, though, half of the Defenders are flat on their back, too weak even to lift their heads. The rest of the heroes are gasping from the weight of their armor, weakened muscles shaking from the coldness of undeath.
The shadow, uninjured, slides forward along the wall.
To be continued….
Thanks again to David Hendee, aka Littlejohn!