Distance Over Time
Black mist licked the flickering void around them.
Nicodemus noticed that his wounds did not ache so much here. His mind slowly drifted about and around his body, making him only vaguely aware of it. The bruises from the beating were more than just numb; they were someone else’s. Stalking through a drugged dream, unable to feel his fingers or toes, he turned his head and let his eyes slide slow motion, two glass spheres in a cup.
Time here was erratic. A single long moment passed as he arduously toiled to lift his foot off the ground, but the world then collapsed jerkily forward as he completed the step in a rushed panic, only to slow again as his balance shifted and he tried to twist his waist and lift the other foot. From his foggy peripheral, he saw others in the party struggling as well. One of the ladies even fell. Nicodemus wasn’t sure who it was, not having the coordination to both move forward and look to the side, but he knew they hung suspended in mid air, then gently drifted down, and not more than an inch before the ground their momentum finally caught up to them. They all crept onward, maddening marionettes, epileptics underwater.
There was a nearby hiss amidst the gurgling far-away sounds of the dead lands. Desperate to move, but unable to ignore the noise, he chanced a glance at himself with a crawling sense of danger. Wavering, he looked down at his bloodied cloak to find it cleaning itself; like flecks of ash, the tiny bits of gore were drawn into the air and boiled away. He raised his face forward once again, staring solemn and silent, striding on with grim resolve. He had to move, had to get on with it. The Shadowrealm was tasting him.
The lump in his throat wrapped around his entire neck.
Then, from somewhere else, his own voice said, “I’m death.”
Lady Balthes asked, “What was that?”
Everything snapped back to normal with the sound of rushing air.
Lady Balthes asked, “What was that?”
“Time death,” Nicodemus said.
When Tessijah moaned, they looked back at her and each other. Instead of the beautiful and exotic shaman, they saw among them a withered old woman, her tattoos crinkled and a blur, with a mane of wild hair where once was only baldness. She leaned on her staff heavily as her knees bowed.
Lady Balthes, no longer tall and proud, squirmed under her heavy pack and purple cloak with the scrawny limbs of a teen. Her usually stern expression, now peppered by a swarm of freckles, bore the air of indignant defiance so common among the youth.
Nicodemus and the rat were hardly changed but for a full curly beard and tufts of side whiskers, and gear that looked both tarnished and moth eaten. Sarah seemed completely unscathed.
The necromancer ran his fingers between the hairs on his chin, “Entropy runs rampant here. The dark ether winds blow uncommonly fierce.”
Sarah asked worriedly “So then we are close?”
Lady Balthes rolled up her thick sleeves, which immediately rolled back down past her hands. “This is unacceptable! Nick, you’ve got to fix it.”
“I can’t.”
“What do you mean you can’t?”
“I’m sorry Lady, this is beyond my power.”
“Then what the pity are we even doing out here?”
As if to answer her, a crack of thunder growled overhead. The dry branches of the dead trees clattered together like clusters of thin needles, the wind picking up. The gray fog rolled away downhill, and tiny droplets began to fall.
“Great,” Lady Balthes chirped, “Just great. Now it’s raining.”
“That’s impossible…” Nicodemus looked around, alert with adrenaline.
The droplets quickly increased in frequency, flopping loudly here and there. It was more like hail than rain really, each drop big enough to see and none closer than a foot apart. The fog started to rise off the ground again, this time white and thick. The air stank.
Nicodemus urged them on, “We must find shelter.” White mist and acrid stench was all around them.
“Calm down Nick,” Lady Balthes mocked.
“I’m serious. There is no water in the Shadowrealm…” he stopped
A largish blue blob landed square on Tessijah’s face, the splash covering her left eye. The crone wiped away the thick goo, only to begin whimpering and shaking. White smoke bled up from the blue slime as she clawed it off her hand and cheek and forehead. Her skin was beginning to boil.
“…it’s raining acid.”
It took Tessijah to start screaming before the party was off at a full run. Soon they were lost in the darkness.