Heen (Realm)/Heenite Highlights/July '07/Jadine's Nightmare

At midnight in the desert town of Hcallow, Jadine Baraedor was deep in a troubled sleep. She was away from the carnage in Heen, but she could not think of anything other than the battles. She was having a nightmare.

All around her Heen was burning, and ash covered the dead and ravaged corpses of Heens brave soldiers and nobles. Her own sister Alana was lying in the street, a deep wound in her chest which was motionless, completely devoid of any heartbeat or breathing. There were several creatures around her with grey rotting flesh, their eyes a black so deep that any sign of life in them was hidden. The creatures advanced on Alana Baraedor as Jadine watched in horror, and tore her sister to shreds, feasting on organs and fighting each other for the most juicy parts. Jadine ran towards them with her green blade flashing, but just as she reached them, they turned into shadows and vanished in the gloom. Jadine screamed a cry of anguish that would have pierced the heart of anyone who heard it, but alas, there was no life here but her own. She gazed up towards the ever-darkening sky, and saw the silhouette of someone she recognised standing on the rampart gazing out on the fields around Heen, surely it was her old friend Thrydwulf. She ran up the steps in the South Tower, and followed the rampart around. A few steps away from her friend, she realised something was wrong. There was an eerie feeling that Jadine recognised as the same instinct that had always told her when undead were near. As she started to back away, the figure turned and confirmed her worst fear, Thrydwulf had been raised as an undead leader by the Summoner. From all around the rampart, undead moved out of the shadows, swift and silent. Among them were figures she recognised, Erin the Celt; his red hair gone, replaced by fetid flesh and scars from previous battles, her childhood friend Fror, his strong figure dimished and looking hungry for human flesh. The undead continued to move from the shadows, until they advanced in a ring around her. The crowd parted, and Thrydwulf walked towards her. Jadine could see there was still some part of her friend’s strong will fighting against the will of the undead leaders who now controlled him, but it was not a battle he could win. His mind had been working overtime recently, and with all that mental fatigue, he no longer had the strength to fight off the command of the Summoner. He advanced upon her, and before she could even try to fend him off, he had ripped her neck open with his teeth, and infected her with the disease that had destroyed her realm.

Jadine awoke with a start, covered in a cold sweat, and was over to her glimmering sword in a heartbeat. Suddenly she realised it was only a nightmare, and slumped down on her chair. She looked through the messages her scribe had left on her desk, and saw a report of the forces in Heen. She saw that the monsters had renewed numbers, far more power than the undead now, and that the undead were being forced out of Heen City and were retreating defeated. Relief and hope swept over her like a tidal wave, and it was all she could do to get back to her bed before she slept again. This time, she slept soundly, and looked forward to returning to Heen in the evening.