Nat stared down the shaft of the bolt knocked in his borrowed crossbow and tried not to panic.

One nice thing about walls, he reflected almost philosophically as the gibbering terror swelled in his gut, was that when you were behind them, you couldn’t see what was coming at you. When you stood on top of those walls, however, you were treated to a first-class view of exactly what kind of enemy forces were moving towards you all together too quickly.

Some of them he recognized. The minotaurs, for instance, were instantly recognizable. As were the Widowmakers, the half-spider half-man centaur-things that had featured heavily in Nat’s nightmares for a week after he’d seen his first one back in AllHaven. The squat gray creatures that were almost exactly as wide as they were tall were new, but after a moment he realize they had to be Gray Lurkers, a mob race that was usually only found underground and tended to eat dwarves like they were candy.

Other things he had no words for. Four armed, two-headed golden giants that wielded swords almost as tall as the wall on which he stood. Massive snakes that undulated along the ground on thousands of tiny feet and had hundreds of tiny arms growing out of their backs. Flying creatures with the heads of birds, the bodies of sharks, and the wings of dragons. And here and there patches of pure darkness that took on different shapes from one moment to the next.

They stretched out over the land like a living carpet, rolling towards him, unstoppable and unstopping. Suddenly the great stone walls Jack Tolliver had conjured up seemed pitiful defenses indeed, and the crossbow in his hands about as effective as spitballs in a firestorm.

“I’m going to die,” he breathed.

“Probably,” agreed a familiar voice from beside him. He glanced down to see Tilly standing there on tip-toes, just able to see over the top of the wall. “But hey, at least you’ll leave a beautiful corpse, right?”

Nat blinked. “What are you talking about?”

“No clue!” Tilly grinned up at him. “I always babble right before the fun starts. Hey, do you mind giving me a boost?”

Nat blinked again. “A what?”

“Bend down here, sweetie.”

Nat glanced over at the approaching army. They were still a ways out. Mrs. Tolliver had said they probably wouldn’t be within striking distance for five minutes or so. But he didn’t feel like taking chances. He turned back to decline Tilly’s request—whatever she was talking about.

His mouth had just gotten open when it was suddenly full of goblin fingers. Tilly grabbed his lower jaw by his teeth and hauled down, forcing him to bend double. Then, in a flurry of knees and elbows, he suddenly found himself standing straight up with the goblin woman a very noticeable weight on his shoulders.

This was not how I expected my day to go. The goblin’s feet on his shoulders shifted and wriggled and she fought for balance. He almost lost his footing, but something hard and smooth and cool to the touch shored up against him and steadied him.

“Thanks,” he said, glancing down to his rescuer, then nearly fell over the other way when he saw it was one of Tilly’s Buzz-saw Elementals, eyeing him with an unreadable expression on its serrated face.

“Don’t mind Elmer,” Tilly said from above him. “He’s a big softy. Well, not really a softy. You know what I mean. He’ll only eat your face if I tell him to, so don’t worry.”

He very deliberately took his eyes off of… Elmer? And put them back on the approaching army. It was less intimidating.

There were dozens of warriors on top of the wall, of all different levels. Nat was in the lower tier, but he knew his seismagic could be useful in many ways that allowed him to punch above his weight. Other fighter mobs, especially those that had fought with Sam against the revenant, had similar abilities he was sure. And of course, Mr. and Mrs. Tolliver were legendary adventurers, highest levels on the entire continent he’d heard. And there were seasoned guardsmen there, and other adventurers, and…

And there was no reason to be afraid. Surely the combined might of the defenders, coupled with Jack’s preparations, would be enough to turn away the attackers. Right?

He swallowed hard and went back to sighting down his crossbow.

And then an angel stepped up beside him.

He heard her footsteps on the stone wall, a gentle tap-tap-tap of booted feet on stone. He turned, expecting to see one of the dungeon mobs, or maybe one of the free fighters that Sam had led against the revenant. Maybe even one of those huge mushroom people. But when he turned, what he saw was red hair and blue eyes and freckles and enough power to level a town.

“Hi,” she said, giving him a little gap-tooth smile. “I’m Diana. You ready for this?”

He swallowed and nodded mutely, not trusting his tongue at the moment. He glanced down and saw she once again wore the strange thin metal armor, and those same studded knuckles that had fended off a lich king just a few short days ago. No other weapons were visible.

“Are—“ He swallowed and licked his dry lips. “Shouldn’t you have a crossbow or something?”

“You’re cute,” she said, laughing a silvery laugh. “No, I’ve got other methods. Don’t worry about me.” She paused and looked at him a little closer, and Nat got strangely uncomfortable under that quiet stare.

“First time in something like this?” she asked gently.

“No, I was in the tunnels with Sam when—“ A memory of rage, red and roiling, came back to him. And with it the image of a corridor bending to his will and crushing a dozen undead together in the blink of an eye. “I helped Sam fight the undead.”

“Ever been in a scrum like this though?” She asked, and gestured out to the approaching army. They would be in projectile range in seconds.

“No,” he admitted, turning away and gripping his borrowed crossbow tighter.

“Aim for the balls,” she said, and he almost choked. “It’s the one place that no one likes to be hit, and is pretty much universal equipment. Even elementals have nuts, and they really don’t like being hit in them. You want to make someone think twice about attacking you and the people you love? Crossbow bolt to the nuts. Works every time.”

“Uh” He blinked and fought down the urge to titter like a schoolgirl. “Thanks.”

“No problem.”

Bugruk(Generalissimo): Alright boys and girls, here they come. Crossbows, make ready to fire on my command. Mages, hold off until the second crossbow volley, then aim for the wounded. Pick as many of them off as you can. Designated marksmen—you know who you are—aim for the big ones.

Nat swallowed again and looked down the crossbow stock. He chose his target; a large minotaur with a bare chest and a knee-length kilt with a huge sword in one hand and some kind of rope-spear-thing in the other. His index finger rested against the trigger, and he felt the tension in the weapon, all kinetic potential and violence straining for release. Then he glanced aside at the angel, and adjusted his aim downwards a couple inches.

Bugruk(Generalissimo): Fire!

Nat jerked the trigger, and just like that the battle was joined.

* * *

Sam picked up a chunk of wall with his telekinesis and hurled it like a discus into the nearest horror, turning the thing’s lurching attack into a shrieking backpedal and then a silent smear on the ground. He spun and backhanded a second Horror across one of its three faces with Thumb Bane, then stepped forward and kicked it right in the chest. He felt the creature’s flesh give in a spongy kind of compression beneath the blow, and then it was hurtling away to smash and dissolve into smoke against what had been the wall of his room only a few seconds before.

The dreamscape shifted and flowed around him as the attackers came at him from all directions and in all shapes. One minute he was standing in a hellscape, the next he was back in the tunnels underneath Melloram’s town hall facing off against a dozen Gorosi again. Then the scene shifted and he was standing in the Dungeon, flames burning all around him as his friends shrieked in pain in the background.

And the Horrors came at him no matter what the dreamscape. One got close and slashed at his midsection with a hand that changed shape into serrated blades right before it landed. Pain lanced through him, but the strike drew no blood. He responded by snatching the entire thing bodily with his Telekinesis and using it to club a second Horror to death before throwing it into a third. All three exploded into oily smoke when they died.

Why do you resist? Surrender, and I will make your erasure painless and swift.

“Why do villains always offer that?” Sam muttered to himself just before stepping forward and slamming his forehead into the face of a shark-faced Horror. The think squawked and backpedaled, spitting teeth that dissolved to smoke within moments. “Has anyone ever said ‘yes’ to that? ‘Oh, no, you’re right, I surrender. I’d much rather die quickly than fight for a chance to live.’ Please.” Another Horror dissolved when he smacked its head clean off its shoulders.

Alright Sam, think. The Horrors weren’t hard to kill, but there were lots of them. Maybe endless amounts of them. They would overwhelm him sooner or later; maybe when his harness mana battery ran out—assuming it could run out in a dream—or maybe when he was too tired to keep fighting—again, assuming that was a problem in here. The physics of dream warfare was not something he’d devoted sleepless nights to studying.

So how was he going to get out of this one?

Question: What’s keeping me here?

Answer, presumably these Dreamwarden things that his unknown opponent had mentioned.

Hypothesis: Kill the Dreamwardens and I can wake up.

Sounded like as good a plan as any. Now he just needed to figure out where they were, and if they could be killed.

Baby steps, right?

Oh, and while he was actually thinking and being smart about things…

Sam(Dungeon Man): Hey, can anyone hear me?

* * *

Cora’s head jerked up and her eyes blinked. She turned to stare at Sam, layed out on the infirmary bed. His eyes were still closed and his breathing was still the deep regular inhalations of a man asleep. So why was he messaging the dungeon?

Cora: Samuel? What are you doing? You should be sleeping!

Sam: Oh, hey Cora. Yeah, so, funny story. Have you ever heard of something called Dreamwardens?

The golem blinked again, her face screwing up as she accessed what memories she had from before waking up in the central chamber. There was not much beyond her immediate functionality, and nothing at all on whatever these Dreamwarden things were.

Cora: I have not, but I shall inquire of the others. Samuel, how are you—No, it is enough that you are communicating. Do you know we are under attack?

Sam: I saw them approaching just before I blacked out. Has the fighting started out there too?

Cora: Bugruk is commanding the forces. Our archers have just begun to engange—What do you mean ‘too’? Samuel, are you in danger?

Sam: Constantly. Check on those Dreamwarden things, please. Hurry.

Cora sent the message out over open channels, and while most of the responses that flowed back to her were negative, a couple of them bore fruit, and also served to possibly explain a few things as well.

Cora: Alright; Tilly says she ran into a nest of them six years ago. They were eating people in their dreams, she says. And a gnome named Egginway—

Sam: Gnomes? When did we get gnomes? I didn’t have a chance to put that mob generator in yet.

Cora: Your father has been very busy since he got his amulet. And I have been generating mobs faster in an attempt to bolster our forces. Do you wish to hear what Egginway Tacoma said?

Sam: Yeah, lay it on—Hang on a second.

The link went quiet for a handful of seconds, just long enough for Cora to find her fingers clenched in the fabric of her trousers. And then Sam came back into her messages. He sounded like he was breathing hard.

Sam: Sorry about that. They’re getting more coordinated in their attacks.

Cora: Who is they? Sam, are you in trouble?

Sam: Yes I am. No you can’t help. Please tell me what the gnome said.

Cora took a deep breath and let it out, resisting the urge to reach over and shake her friend until he told her what was going on.

Cora: He says they are creatures who invade dreams and force the dreamer to continue dreaming until they die. Sam, are you fighting these things?

Sam: Sort of. I think there’s a bunch in the army that’s attacking us, and they were watching for me specifically in case I fell asleep or something. They tried to take me out, but the guardian stuff is protecting me, and I’ve got all my gear in here. I’m gonna kick some ass until I figure out where they are and what they look like, then I’m going to kill them and hopefully wake back up.

Hands clenched tighter, so very tight, against her knees. Her friend, her guardian, was under attack and there was nothing she could do about it. Or was there?

Cora: I could try to wake you up?

Sam: … Yeah. Yeah that’s a good idea. Do that.

Cora almost laughed at the tone of Sam’s message. She knew it well. He was castigating himself silently for something he had not even thought about that had been obvious to someone else. Then her humor died swiftly as she stood up from the chair and dashed over to the wash station near the back of the infirmary. Quickly she filled a bedpan—she would not tell him about this, despite the fact that it was perfectly clean—with cold water from the tap, then carried it gingerly back to the bed.

For a moment she hesitated, then with a mental shrug she upended the whole thing onto her friend’s head.