The first remnants of the shattered Morp army staggered past Delaney and Windglow. Caked with a gritty paste of sweat and dust, they ran in glassy-eyed exhaustion without noticing either of them.

“We have to help them,” said Delaney.

“We shall,” said Windglow, hastily assembling his pack. “Even though I do not see what good we can accomplish. Do we steer them toward their villages and families? Or do we try to help the entire population to scatter so that Draxis cannot not slaughter them all in one pen? Can we get them to do anything? Are they persuadable? Are they trainable?”

They called anxiously to Shaska as she came within range. She was too busy shepherding the weakest, most injured, and most exhausted soldiers to respond.

Behind her, the dark shroud advanced. The Meshoma, having helped Shaska deliver the Morps to the doorstep of their home realm, vanished toward the Ashwauk.

As Delaney and Windglow turned their faces back toward the First Realm, they discovered that the Morps who had streamed past them had halted their retreat. They were busy reforming their ragged ranks, a task which, by all appearances, taxed their intellectual skills to the limit. As they attempted to form a line, they brandished their spears and rocks as menacingly as possible given their peculiar physiques.

“You cannot stay here. We must run,” pleaded Windglow, his arms outstretched, shooing them as if they were a gaggle of geese. The Morps flinched at his approach but stood their ground.

"Please!" shouted Windglow. “The Destroyer is immortal. You cannot fight it. It cannot be killed.”

“Morp. Morp,” piped several of the creatures. “Our land."

"Fight here."

"Fight for homeland."

"Stop Darkness.”

One of them tried to scrape a defiant line in the gravel but tripped and fell over it, which obscured the results of his efforts. Others took up the task but none could come close to producing anything resembling a straight line. Their attempts at establishing a visible border wavered and meandered, with an end result being a series of random chicken scratches in the crust.

Delaney joined Windglow's effort to shoo them away. “But you can’t fight it!”

“If Darkness comes, we fight.”

“Our home.”

“Fight or die. Fight or die."

"For Morp.”

“No!” shouted Delaney She pushed several of the Morps and tried to spin them around to the rear.

“No push,” said the Morps. Some jabbed gently at her with their spears, although none hit the mark. “For shame. Not fight us. Fight Darkness.”

“What is going on?” asked Shaska, wide-eyed as she ushered the last Morp across the crude scribbles.

“You tell us,” said Delaney. “What happened? Why is that, that THING coming after them?”

She could see Draxis through the haze, spinning like a huge cyclone from one terrifying shape to another. In rapid succession, Delaney saw a menacing, billowing demon, a faceless, shrouded apparition, a skinless, disfigured death’s head, a giant, sabertoothed cat, and a hideous, grinning serpent, wrapped in vaporous scales. Centered in a core of darkness more impenetrable than the night, fashioned by some ethereal substance and obscured by dust, it did not even appear real. At one point, Delaney could make out, through the shadow it cast, long claws sweeping to the ground, gaunt, hollow cheeks and terrible fangs, all as if seen through a watery mirror.

“I am sorry,” said Shaska. “I have failed again.” She bore the pain of her own condemnation stoically, but her red eyes betrayed her. “You should have gone in my place, Windglow, for I had not the skill to dissuade them from attack.”

The undercurrent of jealousy that Delaney liked to pretend did not exist bubbled to the surface. She scoffed at the notion that any man could say no to someone as sweet and attractive as Shaska for any reason. Leave it to the Morps--so deprived of beauty in their gray existence that they did not even respond to her!

“I could not get through to them that Draxis is immortal,” Shaska continued. “They do not understand the concept, and I could not find the words to break through. Worse yet, they still expect the Ordunese to join them in battle.”

Fresh guilt stabbed deep into Delaney’s conscious.

“They believe they were called on for help,” Shaska continued. “No one has ever done so before. They were bursting with pride. Burning with the fire of solemn purpose as bearers of a sacred trust. They were determined to acquit themselves with honor and give what they could to the last full measure."

Her lip trembled as she recounted their efforts and her frustration. “As soon as I convinced a few that there had been a mistake, that the Ordunese army had not summoned them and was no longer even in the city, others would charge into Darkness. When I stopped them, others forgot everything I said and attacked on their own.

“Draxis was not even aware of their presence for most of the Morp attack. You know how seldom Morps hit what they aim at. I am not sure what it was that caught the Nephil's attention. But once it became aware of these creatures charging straight ahead with no regard for life, it seemed to shrink somewhat. For a moment, its incessant wail stopped altogether for a moment. Then it recovered and, as if insulted by their boldness, tore into them. Oh, it was awful! I shall not tell you what I saw nor what I heard in those moments. I screamed at them until I was hoarse.”

Her tears flowed freely. “Finally, with the help of Cohasset and a few of his people, we were able to pull the army away and herd them back toward Morp. But although Draxis was not harmed in the least, the Morps’ audacity has so shaken and angered it that its hatred now burns against them. It has followed them in a rage, picking off the stragglers with a vengeance.”

For the first time, she noticed the ragged battle line of the Morps. Pointing at them, her brow knitted in confusion, she gasped. “Now what are they doing?”

Fresh terror and despair overwhelmed Delaney at the impending slaughter. Draxis, the deadliest of the Nephil from the Immortal Realm, was fast approaching, towering above them, spinning shapes out of a darkness so intense, so blinding, that Delaney could no more bear to look at it than to stare at the sun. It bore down on them, roaring with hatred and laughing with obscene joy at the same time.

“We couldn’t get through to them either,” cried Delaney. “They are totally like `this is our home; we’ll die right here before we let it in.”’

“They cannot do this!” sobbed Shaska. “Why can they not get it through their heads that Draxis is immortal?”

“Oh, they can all just take a flying leap for all I care, the stupid clods!” Delaney said, fiercely, wiping a tear. “Maybe they can’t help being so stupid and clumsy and ugly. But this isn’t stupidity; it’s plain stubbornness! Pig-headed stubbornness, and that makes it their own fault. Let’s get out of here!” she begged, quivering with fear. “Why should we get ourselves killed just because they’re so . . . so?!”

Her thoughts died as she saw Draxis approach, flickering between the images of monstrous cat, dragon, death's head, and demon. It bobbed ever higher into the heavens as it bore down upon the defiant band of Morps. Deafening laughter shrieked from out of the shadow, blasting several of the resolute defenders off their feet and forcing the rest to stop their ears. Draxis quivered with joy: the impending massacre of innocents was a pleasure almost beyond bearing.

“But we cannot just-” began Windglow.

“No, Delaney is right, begging your pardon,” cried Shaska over the hellish squall. “We can do no more here. If we cannot change the minds of these poor, befuddled souls, perhaps we can warn the other Morps of what is coming. The children and the families. Let us save whom we can save.”

That was all the excuse Delaney needed. She turned and ran, frantic to escape the foul, hate-spewing apocalypse, desperate to escape the numbing despair. But scarcely had she planted her foot than she tripped over the Tishaarans who flanked her. All three went down in a dusty heap.

If you come across this story on Amazon, it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.

Stunned, Delaney turned to Shaska. “What are you doing, you clumsy ox?”

Shaska spun about, searching the ground near them. “To whom are you speaking to? There are no oxen within miles of here, clumsy or otherwise. And they could not speak in any case, despite the realm bonds being broken, because they are domestical beasts and domestical beasts cannot talk.”

“I’m talking to you, you skank! Why did you tackle me?”

Shaska looked perplexed. “I am not certain there was a reason. In fact, now that I think on this, was it not you who knocked me down?”

“Could it have been an accident?” asked Windglow. “Remember, we had decided to run away from that . . . that thing?”

“Look out!” screamed Shaska.

The blinding darkness boiled high into the sky and, rolling forward like tidal wave, crashed down upon the Morps. A cruel, venomous cry split the air like a siren. "DEATH! AGONY! DESPAIR!"

The words thundered across the plain of Morp, echoing, crescendoing, bombarding the Morp army from all directions. With a swipe of its shadowed hand, Draxis cut down their lines like a scythe. Morps, spurting gray blood, fell left and right in rapid succession, like a long row of writhing dominos. Among them was a familiar looking Morp, whom Delaney finally recognized as Snetrock. He lay gasping for air, flopping like a fish in the desert, clutching his stomach, his face a stoic mask hiding the pain he must have felt.

Delaney cried out his name.

He looked around, bewildered. Then he saw her. There was a spark of recognition in his eyes, then his face broke into that grotesque grin. “My fren!” he said, reaching out to her with stubby, blood-smeared fingers.

Delaney tried to crawl to the wounded Morp. “I’m here, Snetrock!"

But her body seemed to weigh a thousand pounds. She grimaced and grunted for every inch she could gain while Snetrock reached out to her, pleading.

A cruel, venomous cry split the air like a siren. Draxis leapt high into the sky, roaring with delight, and landed with a crash that split the earth beneath him.

Draxis leapt high into the sky, roaring with delight, and landed with a crash that split the earth beneath it.

“DEATH TO YOUR CHILDREN! TO YOUR WOMEN! DEATH TO EVERYMORP THAT WALKS UPON THE EARTH! ONCE I HAVE FEASTED ON YOUR PITIFUL ARMY, I WILL DESCEND ON THE REST OF YOUR PITIFUL KIN! I SHALL LAY WASTE TO WHAT LITTLE THERE IS TO RUIN IN THE LAND OF MORP! AH, THE SUFFERING, THE BEAUTIFUL, GLORIOUS SUFFERING!”

The incredible cauldron of despair that Draxis had conjured up overwhelmed the daylight. The entire land plunged into deep shadow.

The Morps cringed and shuddered. Their knees buckled and their hands shook so hard they could barely hold onto their weapons. Tears streamed down their cheeks. On every face, Delaney saw the shadow of despair as Draxis gleefully painted in the sky for them a vivid mural of the unbearable future they were powerless to prevent.

Dancing with ecstasy, the form-changing shadow then bent toward the earth and grabbed a half dozen Morps in its dragon fist. It lifted the flailing victims high to its skinless face where they disappeared for a moment before Draxis spat them out upon the ragged army. Then this darkest spirit of the Fifth Realm descended again upon the Morp lines, raking and clawing and stomping in a frenzy.

Not one of the gray creatures broke and ran. None dropped his weapons, nor yielded an inch of ground. Where Draxis tore gaping holes in their ranks, other trembling soldiers threw themselves into the breech, tripping or banging into each other as they closed their ragged ranks, and threw spears and rocks that clattered harmlessly to the ground.

Throughout its attack, Draxis had paid no attention to the three companions who sprawled helplessly near the Morp ranks. But as Delaney, graceless as a flipped-over turtle, continued to wriggle free from this mesmerizing spectacle of destruction to comfort her stricken friend, the Fifth Realm demon caught sight of her movement. A voice, cold as death, entered her head. It sang along to the accompaniment of a grating dissonance, and hissed in triumph.

“I AM IN YOUR MIND DELANEY. I HAVE TAKEN IT! YOU ARE NOT GOING TO DIE, MY DEAR! NO, NOT FOR A LONG TIME, THOUGH YOU SHALL WISH IT SO I HAVE OTHER PLANS FOR YOU!”

Screaming at the top of her lungs to drown out the thunderous whisper of that voice, she shut her eyes and buried her face in her hands. But it was too late. As it had boasted, Draxis had taken root in her brain. There was nothing she could do to escape the vision of the smoldering face and dripping fangs that bore down upon her. Only out of the corner of her eye did she detect Snetrock staggering to his feet, swinging his club as he strove to place himself between Delaney and the Destroyer.

Then the earth shook so hard that Delaney bounced into the air. With her head swimming from the crash and ears ringing from the voice inside her head, she did not at first notice the change in the lethal music of Draxis. But as the earth resettled, it was unmistakable. The chants and laughter and siren-like wails sounded tinny and distant, as if someone had unplugged the amplifier. Delaney wondered if the concussion had destroyed her hearing.

She lifted her head and looked around.

Draxis was gone. The stifling aura of terror had lifted. Through her blurred vision, she saw a young woman sprawled across the fallen body of Snetrock. Curiosity turned to shock when she discovered that woman was she.

As if through a trance, she watched herself arise on legs of molten rubber and stagger toward the open spaces of inner Morp, her eyes yellow and glistening with terror.

Light-headed and nauseous, Delaney tried to follow her flight, but the movement of her eyes only made her sickness worse. She blinked and tried to refocus on the fleeing woman. There was absolutely no doubt in her mind; that was she.

I'm having an out-of-body experience. That's the only explanation. I must be dead. But if I'm dead, why is my body still running around?"

She felt her face, and found it be be solid flesh, which puzzled her further. If I'm outside my body, why do I feel like I'm still in my body?

Brushing the sun-baked soil from her cheeks and forehead, she looked back at the Morp battle line opposite her fleeing self. Shaska and Windglow were walking gingerly toward the long row of Morps who lay motionless where Draxis had flayed them.

But many more of the First Realm creatures broke ranks and swarmed after Delaney, the other Delaney, who was now stumbling across a shallow wadi that cut across the open plain. They rained rocks and spears toward her.

The out-of-body Delaney thought it all very weird and almost amusing. Go Delaney! You can get away from these Morps! They're as helpless as kittens. You can't let them get you!"

Her mood changed, however, when she saw two of the missiles actually hit their mark. She winced in sympathetic pain. "All right, that's enough! Leave me alone!" she shouted.

Delaney saw herself weave and totter like a drunk falling downhill. The Morps swung their clubs and hurled stones and spears, hitting each other as often as they struck their prey. Yet they pressed the attack relentlessly.

The watching Delaney was beside herself with fury. "Why are you doing that to me, you little maggots!? Draxis is the one you should be fighting. Are you so dumb you can't even keep that straight?"

The fleeing Delaney fell heavily in a teeth-rattling crash that kicked up a cloud of dust. Groaning and gasping, pawing at the air as though struggling in deep water, she struggled to her feet as the Morps continued to pelt and pierce her. Pale as ice and sick with pity for herself, the watching Delaney let out a terrified cry, which was answered by a pitiful squeal from her fleeing self.

It must be a dream! Please, God, let this all be a dream!

The watching Delaney trailed hopelessly after them, feeling as precariously balanced as a toddler learning to ride a bicycle, sobbing at the cruelty of her martyrdom. Although she could hardly bear to watch what was happening, neither could she turn away from the surreal spectacle of witnessing her own savage beating at the hands of the realmland's most helpless creatures.

As the fleeing Delaney lurched onto a short, steep slope that descended into a shallow canyon, she picked up frightening speed and opened up a gap between herself and her pursuit.

The watching Delaney cheered out loud. That's it! Leave them in the dust!

Her fleeing self seemed to be doing exactly that. But as she careened down the slope, she shot a glance over her shoulder to check the pursuit. The attempt to locate the enemy while veering onto the open floor and braking at the same time prove too difficult a project. The fleeing Delaney rammed full-bore into the canyon wall.

The watching Delaney screamed in anguish.

The fleeing Delaney struggled to her feet, moaning. She straightened up, tottered backwards, and crumpled to the ground.

While trying to clear her woozy head and keep her balance at the same time, the watching Delaney witnessed a sight that completely unstrung her. She watched her own brutal execution.

The Morps uttered no cries of glee or whoops of triumph. They simply closed in on their fallen foe in the same chaotic free-for-all with which Delaney had witnessed them dispatching the boar on her earliest trip to Morp. Several of them crashed into the same wall that the fleeing Delaney had struck, at a fraction of the impact. They continually blundered into each other’s way as they approached the fallen woman with arms raised, weapons in hand.

Delaney at last turned away from the sight,unable to bear anymore. Reeling under the shock of what had happened, she made her way back to where Shaska and Windglow had begun tending the fallen Morps.

"Why are you helping them?" she demanded. "Whose side are you on?"

Windglow and Shaska looked it each other stupidly. “I am not certain," said Windglow. "How many sides are there?"

"I hate them. I hate them," Delaney snarled, glaring at the badly injured and dying Morps and for the moment enjoying their pain. They deserve it!

“Who?" asked Shaska.

"The Morps."

"Why?"

"Because they killed me. They did it right in front of me. Sickos!"

"They killed you?" asked Windglow, incredulously. "Why?"

Delaney snorted. "Because they're stupid."

"But why would the Morps kill you?" asked Shaska, struggling to hold together her thoughts. "Are you sure it wasn't Draxis who killed you?"

Delaney suddently whirled, and the effort spun her completely off her feet. "That's right! Draxis. Where did it go?"

As the three searched their vacant memories for an answer to that question, a group of Morps emerged, dusty and bloody, from the plain. "Darkness gone," they said wearily.

But Delaney had already forgotten her question. “What’s the matter with the stupid Morps?” she muttered. “Don’t they know that Draxis is a mortar? Immorval? Immoral?” She waved her hand in frustration. “You know what I mean! They’re just going to get it mad. You don’t want to get demons mad. Just makes them more, you know, demony.”

Shaska shrugged as she spat upon a torn strip of her tunic and dabbed at the forehead of a wounded Morp. “They do not know any better.” Her face knotted in deep concentration as she tried repeatedly to zero in on a particularly nasty slash across the chest.

“If you’re done playing nursemaid, let’s get out of here,” snapped Delaney. “I don’t want to be around when that thing comes back.”

“Begging your pardon, Delaney,” said Shaska, bewildered by the bungling care she was providing to the poor Morp. “Can you not find something useful to do?”

The question seemed simple enough, but Delaney found herself stumped. “I really have no idea,” she conceded at last. “You’d think so, you know. Cause there’s, like, a gazillion possibilities of things to do. Hold on; give me a minute.”

“I don’t have any minutes to give you,” said Shaska. “I don’t know where they keep them in this realm.”

Delaney could do nothing but stand and watch as Shaska offered spectacularly incompetent care to the fallen. She was still mulling over the question of what she ought to do and hoe to avenge herself on the Morps when the rest of the Morp army trudged wearily out of the canyon. Some were limping, others bleeding and bruised, as they gathered around their fallen comrades.

“Spirit dead. Darkness gone,” said the Morps. They showed no elation, offered no more display of satisfaction than if they had just rinsed a dish or taken out the garbage. No emotion of any kind. Only the usual mournful expressions.

“Impossible. That can’t be,” insisted Delaney. “Draxis is a Morton. It can’t be killed.”

“Draxis dead,” insisted the Morps.

“Begging your pardon, but Delaney is right,” said Windglow. “Mortons cannot be killed.”

"Do not know Morton. Draxis dead."

"You're just saying that to cover up your crime," huffed Delaney. "Why did you kill me? What do you have to say for yourselves? Murderers!"

The Morps stared at her blankly and shrugged. “Darkness dead. Morp safe. City of Stone safe. Family safe. Children safe. You safe.”

With almost infinite patience and a singleness of purpose that was as inspiring as it was maddening to watch, the Morp began to gather their dead and tend to their wounded.