The fighting was less than a hundred yards away from the rift gate to the new world. So many people were trying to force their way through that the weak were being trampled underfoot by the strong. Pug willed himself up into the air for a better view.
The Dasati were everywhere. The Black Mount had not expanded since he had left, but he knew it was merely a matter of time. He used magical sight to see which of the rift gates were in the most peril, and saw that the one nearest to where he stood was the one most likely to be captured first.
Pug hesitated. Every moment he waited a few more Tsurani would make it through the rift into the new world. It would be a difficult life for these refugees, but it would be life. The moment he closed down this rift, he consigned everyone trying to reach it to death, most of them to the horrible fate he had witnessed down in the pit in the heart of Omadrabar. He saw a Dasati Deathknight reach the bottom of the long ramp leading up to the rift and sent out a bolt of searing white energy which caused the armoured figure to burst into flames.
That proved to be an error, for two nearby Deathpriests sent their death-magic towards him. He barely got his defensive barrier up in time, but now he could not attack the Dasati without making himself vulnerable. He considered for a moment making himself invisible again, but he knew that the work ahead of him was likely to use up all his strength, and he would have none to spare.
He closed his eyes, as much to spare himself the vision of those below once they realized all hope was gone as to focus his will, and reached out to the rift. No one on either Midkemia or Kelewan understood rifts as Pug did. This rift was one he had created and he had enabled it to be easily closed down by anyone who knew how. He willed it out of existence.
One second there was a grey void with silver light shimmering on the surface, a beacon of hope and a doorway into safety, and the next it was gone. The wail of despair that rose up tore at Pug’s heart and he fought back the urge to lash out at the Dasati. They were being as evilly used by the Dark One as anyone else, and he knew that any Deathknight or Deathpriest on Kelewan was doomed to die along with the remaining Tsurani. But even so, it didn’t lessen his outrage.
He went to the next rift at risk and shut it down.
Seeing the rifts begin to blink out of existence one at a time, the crowd erupted into hysteria and panic. Mothers tightly gripped their children, as if they could somehow hide from the monsters who now approached them with deadly purpose. Husbands ran, leaving wives behind, or threw themselves at the Deathknights, striking them with their bare fists, or attacking them with household implements. The old, the weak and the very young died quickly.
Pug swallowed hard and shut down another rift. He moved on to the next one. He had much to do and time was running out.
Nakor stirred. He had finally become used to how his body felt. It was a very interesting situation, and he wished he could appreciate it more, but he knew that he had something important to do very soon.
He stood up and walked to the edge of the pit. The Dreadlord was now rising up in the sea of orange and green flame, roaring defiantly, as if issuing a challenge. Nakor wondered if the gods in Kelewan could hear it. Not that it mattered, for those gods were old and tired, and unable to protect their realm. He wondered if they would go with the Tsurani people to their new world, or whether new gods would arise. He wondered if there was really any difference. It was a pity he wouldn’t find out.