The wasteland streamed past in a continuous flow of abstract color and shape. Red. Brown. Gray. Black. Occasionally a splash of different color—the purple-blue of some mineral deposit, the pale white of exposed bone, the dark green of some incredibly hardy plant life.
Tatehan kept going. He rode at this speed for several minutes, unsummoning his armor except for the helmet, moving at incredible speed.
And then, gradually, the terrain began to change.
The flat, featureless expanse gave way to more varied geography. Rock formations became more frequent. Shadows grew longer and deeper. The ground became more uneven, with crevices and small canyons cutting through the landscape.
Shadow goblin territory.
He knew this was the place. It looked a lot like the place where he had earlier fought the shadow goblins.
