The sensation of pain was brief and unforgiving. It was not the cold of an ice blast, or the burning of a flaming ball, nor, luckily for him, was it acidic, and white it provided him with a jolt, its was not lightning magic. It a sheer magical attack, debased of any elemental, with the ability to hit through most defenses. It was bright, it was painful, and then it was dark.

In the inky abysss he felt calm. Was he dead? Unconscious. He was unsure. But it simply felt calm. A moment of peace. The peace was short lived. He could hear the sounds of cries of pain and the dying. He could hear the tortured sounds of men wishing to die but being left alive. Was he one of these men, alive but wishing death? He sure thought so as the images of his friends from a different life become whittled away by a large aggressive force. Zereith a cat folk and one of his most trusted friends, speared from behind. Thydore and Agore twin hobbits and amazing archers, smashed underneath galloping horse. And Amber. His sweet Amber. He can see her in the middle, fighting insurmountable odds, waiting for the promised backup to come. If he could just move faster, if his horse would ride harder. So close. He can see her now as he gallops through the masses. So close they make eye contact, her beautiful green eyes. Eyes that reflected growth of a new age, of stability, freedom. Eyes that saw him as who he was. So close… Yet as hard as he galloped it seemed like he moved in slow motion. He could see her. She reached out her hand to him. He’s almost there and

The sudden pain in his stomach. A well planted arrow? No.

Something felt weird.

He could hear a female voice but it was not Amber. He thought he heard “I got him. It would best if you kept fighting.”

The vision of Amber blurs and fades. Urberer yells out “Amber” but no words come from his mouth. He no longer even sees his body, or his stallion, or the battlefield. Everything returned to a murky black.

He could feel a coldness go through his non-existent body. He could hear accents yell about guards. He could hear screams. Then the cold went away, replaced by pain that went across the gist of his body and the odd feeling that he was on his back … and being pulled.

His eyes came open, and his horizon was no longer of a man standing on his two feet, but of one looking at the horizon from the ground. He was up and personal with the cobblestone and weeds in the grand as his body, and to his pain, side of his face dragged against the ground in even paces. He could see people were still fighting around him. But there were more bodies, more brown leather boots. He turned his head skyward, trying to get up but not having the strength. What he did see was Dusk Walker.

Dusk Walker had one of her arms under the crux of his knee, hugging it as she dragged him. She would take one step, then pull him close, and repeat. All the while she still used her other hand to fend off any would be attackers. One attack just barely made it through, slashing the palm of her hand. She did not yelp nor seemed to even acknowledge the strike, and simply used the contact made to judge her next strike, slicing at the attackers thumb and causing them usage of their entire hand.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

There were less attackers than there were before he noticed. Not being able to lift his head, he turned in to the other side. And he could see why. A number of people ruffians were attacking what appeared to be a giant. The creature stood at eight man’s foot in heigh and surely weigh the amount of an adolescent horse. Bulging muscles, serious veins, covered its body except for where its loin cloth hid his nether regions. He had a huge bushy beard and growled at the foes attacking it. It was menacing and caused many people to to cower. A few did strike at the creature, timidly, but their strikes simply went through, and caused no damage, like a sword cutting through a shadow. It did nothing.

Wait a, what’s going on here? Ug. Urberer thought to himself. He turned his head to the side again and saw that the group of guards had teamed up with Tony and Grif, forming a circle and swinging their weapons menacingly, but not engaging in direct contact.

Why are they not attacking. Wait … He looked up at the rooftops, having to arch his head backwards. He saw the mages up there, doing battle with, crows. They were unleashing multiple blast of magical energy at the crows, but to no avail. It simply went through. To the surprise of not just Urberer, but to the mages themselves as two of them accidentally took each other out as their spells went through the crows and hit each other. They subsequently fell off the roof and hit the ground with a sickening splat.

They’re not real, he thought. They’re illusions. I only know of one person able to cast illusions to such a degree. His eyes searched around fast, even though his brain process was starting to slow, and the pain from being pulled and the explosion wore on him. But he saw him, in the distances a blue skinned goblin with the most wicked of grins.

That sneaky bastard. Always loves a good prank.

Blackness. He had lost consciousness for a moment. He awoke to being hefted onto someone’s shoulder. The pressure of his weight on the shoulders aggravated his already wounded front, causing him cough out. He looked down from his new perch and saw Dune, not shouldering him, but casting spells.

Bright lights flashed above head. Urberer inclined his head, noticing that there was an iridescent shield above their head, taking the brunt of magical spells. He could see that the ruffians had figured out that all they were facing illusions as they tried to tear through the false guards and giant.

A woman’s voice began speaking to Dune. “I’ll take care of him.”

Dune look at the woman and then back at Urberer.

“Shadow’s promise.”

Dune nodded and returned his focuses to the shields, placing up both hands as if to further empower his magical abilities.

Urberer look down now. The person who was carrying him had black gear on and what appeared to be daggers heated at their was it.

He was able to get out the words, “Dusk Walker.”

And felt himself go up higher in the air as she cusped the top of the cistern’s entry and descended into darkness. And so too, did his consciousness.