One second I am striding purposefully across the battlefield, sword and shield at the ready to strike down our foes, and the next my steady pace grinds to a sudden halt. My whole body stiffens, refusing to obey even the most insignificant command. I am trapped, helpless—
No, do not panic. Remember what the commander taught us: 'let instinct guide your sword, and the mind your strategy.' I cannot move my eyes, but I still have my wits. What did I see before this paralysis overtook me? Think, think!
Now I remember – a woman, slight and pretty, in form-concealing purple robes. A time mage, in the back of their ranks, though I know not where she is now. My company and I have fought her ilk before. Some of my fellows have suffered the ravages of this spell before, and they spoke of it as being one of the most terrifying experiences of their lives. Now I, too, know this fear, this creeping dread! It is all I can do to keep my mind clear, to fight back this overwhelming horror.
My arms, weighed down by the sword I cannot swing and the shield I cannot lift, feel like lead. They burn from the exertion of holding my currently useless equipment. My eyes water at the pain, but I cannot blink to clear my vision any more than I can relieve myself of this fire in my limbs. My mouth fills with saliva I cannot swallow. The heavy armor I wear digs into my skin, and I can feel this horrible burning sensation spreading throughout my entire body.
Gods, I cannot bear this agony! How much longer must I endure this accursed enchantment?! I seem to recall it lasting no more than a few minutes on my companions, but even a minute can be an eternity in combat. How much time has passed? My sense of time is muddled, every heartbeat pure torture. I cannot judge anything, know anything, except my own anguish.
I hear the battle raging all around me, but they cannot aid me, nor I them. I am a statue, a grisly work of art surrounded by death and fire. My vision clears just in time to see one of my peers fall in front of me, gurgling his last breaths through a bloody neck wound. He passes across my unmoving gaze, and then vanishes from my sight. I feel his body impact the hard ground, and I hear his final rattle of breath…then he is gone.
Panic seizes me, and this time I cannot hold it back. Was he the first to fall? How many of my comrades are dead? Will I die here as well, a charred corpse for the scavengers to pick over? Wild dogs digging through my intestines, birds plucking out my eyes?! The fire is inside my lungs now – I can take only the shallowest of breaths, and it is not enough, never enough!
To my surprise, the mage steps into my field of view. She is chanting something, her hands raised to the heavens, but I am not sufficiently versed in spellcraft to recognize what she is casting. She regards me calmly, the ghost of a mocking smile crossing her lips. My face cannot register an expression, but she senses my fear, and I realize that she revels in it.
The light, already dim from the grey, cloudy weather, grows darker still. I am suddenly aware of a dull roar coming from above me that is rapidly gaining in strength. I feel a tremendous heat all around me, scorching me inside and out. The noise and the heat and the darkness fill my whole world until nothing else remains.
Rivers of sweat pour off of my immobilized form and sting my eyes, but even now I can do nothing! I must run, flee, escape this terrible conflagration, but my flesh still refuses to respond! I cannot die like this! By the gods, if only I could look up to see what it is she has called forth to kill me!
My sword arm sags, ever so slightly, and a thousand emotions whirl through my head. This damnable spell is weakening! I take a ragged, gasping breath, the superheated air scalding my throat and lungs, but it is air all the same! The inferno grows closer with every passing second, but I need only a moment to—
Free! Praise be to St. Ajora, I am FREE! If only I can