The Demon's mindspeech entered into my mind like a casual arrow into my brain.
[So you have come.]
I could almost see the words before me; the burning Power behind them blinded my true vision. I could almost feel the Balrog, towering over me like a thundercloud of fire and shadow and death. I found my chest constricting, crushed by the invisible hand of fear, and gasped for breath. The Balrog's spirit watched me, amused. [You seek vengeance?]
Now I met the mental assault head on, held on to my own consciousness by a taut thread, and sought the will to respond in kind. [Death], I replied. It was all I could manage, but to my threat I could feel the Balrog's dark laughter welling up, harsh chuckles beating within my mind.
[Your father was more articulate, Dwarf.] I cringed without knowing it, dented my armor in an attempt to squeeze myself farther back into the corner. [And braver. He at least put up a fight.] The mindspeech paused, and some part of my brain that yet functioned understood the Demon did not know where I was. Then, [Why do you hide in the shadows?]
I gulped. Enduring the Demon's mindspeech was not enough-- I needed to be able to cut it off entirely, if I was to have even a slim chance of battle. I turned to memories of the Warrior's Code, of the intense self-discipline and how we had learned to conquer body and mind to our wills. Using the same methods, I set myself to block out the Balrog's intruding mindspeech.
[You seek to hinder me?] I focused painfully on the task at hand, forcing the voice into nothingness, driving it down to be subservient to my will. The mindspeech returned, but I thrust the Demon from my mind decisively and threw up barriers to stop its return. I felt its thought strike again, and could detect a burning anger at being foiled, but did not understand the words. I smiled grimly; I was alone, for the moment.
Before the creature turned its full strength to breaking my mind, I gathered myself together and darted out of my cover, keeping close by the wall. I ran nearly 20 paces before freezing in shock: my shadow was running along the wall next to me.
A shadow, from what? I was far out of the light cast by the bonfire; the Balrog's light must have reached me. I looked out over the cavern, and yes, I could see a vague light moving-- a strange, shaded light, that seemed to illuminate nothing and only show darkness. The light shifted directions as I watched, weaving through the empty streets, but always advancing towards me.
I ran again, trusting in the muffling sound of the beast to hide that of my footfalls. Suddenly, they rang out sharp and clear; I halted with a sick lurch of dread to hear their echos running frightened to hide in the farthest corners of the cavern. The thrumming had ceased, leaving me horribly exposed, and the diabolical illumination flared up eagerly-- then sped toward me.
I began to hear the thrumming again, at a distance, accompanied by the heavy footsteps of a mighty form, footsteps of terror. I ran for the nearest house, darted through the open door, and froze.
The footsteps approached, slowed, stopped. Through a window just around the corner, in the next room, the Demon-glare poured into the room: it splashed onto the floor and hurried over the walls, seeking for me. I held my breath, bid my heart be still, willed the creature to continue. All I got was another mindspeech attack; this one felt of amusement.
I cast a quick glance into the shadows beyond me. At the back of the house a stair climbed up to the second floor; probably the storeroom, Dwarves rarely did more than absolutely necessary on upper floors. I shifted carefully, took one silent, gasping breath, and sprinted for the stairs.
As my foot struck the first step the wall behind me, the wall I had been leaning against, exploded inward-- the Demon had struck it down, its light was blasting through, fragments of stone and metal were ricocheting around me, past me, into me. I didn't spare a look back, just hurled myself up the steps.
A landing, halfway up; I spun and leapt up to the second floor and shifted my grip on the axe. The window I had expected and now counted on did not exist, only a ceiling hole; fortunately, it did not have any brand new holes produced by the beast below. I ran for the ceiling hole, planning to jump and scramble out through it, but the floor buckled beneath my feet and I flew myself aside.
I hit with my shoulder, rolled, and came up on one knee to see the burst of flame shatter the floor and herald my foe's arrival. Only the head showed, shrouded in a flickering crown of shadowed flame, but I could see enough to make my heart forget to beat. Nightmare horns curling, eyes like windows into the Pit, supernatural heat turning the room into an instant furnace.
The ghastly visage turned slowly, almost lazily, to focus on me, and though it spoke no word I could see the smile. I scrabbled backwards, axe forgotten in my quaking hands, as it casually smashed one arm through the stone.
Its right arm came up like a breaching whale, plunging up through the floor and then pushing forward to reach for me. Like a frozen statue I crouched, waiting, as the arm moved slowly closer... oh so slowly. I noted, absurdly, the three fingers and overdeveloped thumb, the way the flames snapped and flashed out of cracks in the lava-like skin, the two-inch-long claws on every digit. The flames themselves seemed slowed, turned and danced deliberately, and I found myself moving as if in a dream-- no, a nightmare. The hand inched closer, and my beard began to curl; I could not move my axe. The hand inched closer, and my beard began smoking, my armor became painful to the touch from the heat; still, I could not move my axe.
An overlooked part of my brain broke in then, clamoring that I was being hijacked; I realized this lethargy was another one of the Demon's effects, making me easy prey. I focused my mind and shook it off, then in one motion raised the axe and let it fall on the outstretched finger.
The enchanted blade hit the finger with an awful scraaaape, as though I was hewing stone, but the finger spouted flames and a peculiar lava-like substance; the Balrog bellowed in pain, shock, and fury, and the hand snapped back. I twisted around and came to my feet, then scuttled back from the expected retaliation, but the Balrog vanished under the floor; again, I was reminded of nothing so much as a whale.
But this was not safe. The beast surely planned to burst out here, where I stood: I must move. So I took a deep breath and ran for the ceiling hole. The Demon's entry had come right below it, but I sprang for the edge anyway.
Not a moment too late. Once again the Balrog blasted through right behind me, dashing the rocks around the room; one of them caught my helmet a sharp crack and I completely missed my goal, fell instead back to the first floor.
This time I landed firmly on my feet and spun immediately. The Demon was turned away from me, its upper body hidden by what remained of the floor. I could see little of the lower body: my eyes were defeated by the fire and darkness drawn about it like a cloak. I caught a glimpse of great cloven hooves, an almost skeletal tail, huge wings ruffled against its back. It seemed to have completely lost me, and it paused suddenly motionless; I saw my chance and attacked.
I hurled my axe against its leg. The blade clove deep into the calf, and the resulting bellow and thrashing turned the remnants of the house into a complete ruin. The roof crashed down, the walls caved, and I was thrown backward with a curse. Mahal must have been watching over me, though; where I landed the ceiling hole crashed right on my head.
The Balrog turned, but unsteadily, and I just ran, jumping the piles of rubble. Behind me I heard the sound and felt the indescribably rush of Power-- I spared a glance to see the Demon drawing a long, flaming bow out of nothingness. Its wings spread like looming death and it came for me. It limped, though, and I heard it give a low growl: the only vocal communication it ever uttered. I didn't look again, just ran around the corner and kept going.
As I ran I worked my mind for a final end to this conflict. I needed to get myself higher, or the Balrog lower; preferably the latter, since that would inconvenience it. Otherwise I would never do anything but hack at his legs. I needed a trap, but how would I set a trap for an enemy like this one?
A rush of wings, the thud of a huge form landing, and I looked up to see the Balrog land on a nearby roof. It grinned at me, raised its bow, and once again drew something out of nowhere-- an arrow. I bolted for a narrow alley.
I threw myself the last foot, and the stone beside me shattered in a fiery explosion: the arrow missed. I scrambled up and ran the length of the alley, where it met a large building and turned a sharp right. I squeezed into this and worked my way along, expecting any moment for the wall next to me to suddenly crush the life from my body.
I was discovering how much I had actually depended on the Demon. Without its light, I was having difficulty seeing. So ironic. The crack between the buildings had been poorly illuminated at its beginning; now it was all but pure blackness. I continued on. The one building stopped, and another began, leaving a wider crack; I sped up. I was beginning to realize what building I was creeping next to, and with that knowledge a plan began forming. If only I could survive...