Leisa opened her eyes when someone shook her awake.
“Get up,” Sorela hissed. Her tone was stern, though also edged with fear?
Leisa got to her feet, realized everyone had their weapons beared. “What is it?”
Heads swiveled about. Falan and Serin kept looking up into the darkness. The men-at-arms shifted uneasily. The company was positioned in a circle, lady casen and herself in the center with Gorkis behind the lady mag and facing away.
Was it those creatures? She eyed the thick tangle of black branches overhead. She couldn’t see anything.
Jasen grabbed her upper arm.
“Owe!”
“Sorry.”
“Hush,” Sorela said. “They’re close,” she whispered in Leisa’s ear. Then, gravely she added. “Be on your guard.”
Why was it so quiet? Before, Leisa could at least hear scurrying and chirping of small animals, but now... nothing.
She shivered and drew her slender sword from its scabbard.
“Where are they?” Brassen growled, tightening his grip on the haft of his axe. “I’ll gut ‘em!”
“Keep your voice down,” Serin hissed.
Abruptly a screech came from overhead, followed by a hundred more. “Get ready!” Serin bellowed. “They’re coming!”
Was that a battle cry? Lisa’s heart started hammering inside her chest.
One of the men-at-arms shrieked. “They’re attacking!”
Liesa whirled, but she couldn’t see anything between them. “Where are they?”
“Look out!”
“There!”
“Hold firm!” Seran commanded.
Sorela uttered some words, but to Leisa they were unintelligible.
What happened next couldn’t be obscured from Leisa’s view, as dozens of those sickly creatures descended on them with axes and curved swords.
About half the height of a man, with big yellow eyes, claws and tails—they resembled something otherworldy.
A sudden gust of cool wind enveloped them, but Leisa was too distracted to care. Some of the small creatures, with their swords and knives and axes charged into the group, several of which convulsed and fell backward, seemingly from nothing at all! Liesa gaped.
Everyone wielded their weapons, cleaving those little creatures limb by limb as they rushed the circle. The little monsters in their leather battle garb rolled into heaps at the edges of the circle, croaking and screaming as they got slaughtered, their blood squirting in gushes.
Leisa yelped as one of the creatures maneuvered between the men-at-arms to her left. She must have closed her eyes when she slashed downward wildly, because she felt—not saw—her blade come into contact with something hard, yet soft.
Opening her eyes, her sword shaking uncontrollably in her hand, she glanced down at the grassy ground. She had split the creatures shoulder open half way down its body.
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A noise came out of her that she was unsure of. Blood pounded inside her ears, a rush of fear crashing through her and gnashing at her insides.
“Watch out!” Sorela called.
“They’ve breached our line?” Jalen screamed.
Brassen turned and barked, “WHAT?”
But it wasn’t true.
“What are you doing?” he barked at the stable boy.
“I don’t—I thought—“
Brassen ignored hm, whirling around and cleaving another creature from head to toe, it’s guts spilling out like a gourd split during autumn festival.
The little monsters learned their lesson on their initial attack and were beginning to descend en mass all around them as scores crashed against the line.
Falan and Serin slaughtered dozens of snarling creatures, long swords whirling deftly in the hands of the two Serafes.
Brassen cursed, turning to reinforce some of the men-at-arms having trouble holding their side of the circle.
Leisa had no time to blush at the man’s obscenities as a creature leapt over the the line. Brassen cleaved the air as the creature lunged at Leisa. She raised her weapon like an idiot and crashed to the ground as the creature landed into her.
Everything whirled as a seering pain gnawed at her ribs.
Had she been killed.
“Liesa!” she heard Jassen call. “Liesa, are you all right.”
She couldn’t bread. She tried to speak. What was happening.
Suddenly the weight came off of her and she sucked in hair. The group was a whirwind of cries and screams as the creatures snarled and attacked.
Liesa sat up, felt her ribs where the pain was, but it had only been because of her sword guard being smashed against her when that creatures impaled itself on her sword before crashing into her.
She got to her feet, but her legs wobbled. She looked at her blade buried in the thing’s chest, her hand—covered in warm, slick blood. She pulled her thin sword free of the thing’s flesh, internal bones scraping against steel. More blood dripped across the hilt onto her hand. She wanted to wretch, but forced herself to take no more notice.
Scores of the snarling monsters surrounded them. “There are too many!” Falan shouted.
Brassen bellowed, growling like a wild animal after two men-at-arms went down, wretches piling atop them, stabbing and slicing. Together, with the help of the other two men-at-arms on either side of him, the fur-cloaked man attacked the monsters piling through the line.
Leisa’s heart pounded and her cheeks felt tight and hot. We’re going to die!
Sucking in gulps of air didn’t help.
Abruptly she winced, squeezing her eyes shut against a bright flash and a thunderous explosion wracked her ears, forcing her to her knees.
Something acrid burned.
Leisa opened her eyes. Scores of those monsters sizzled as small plumes of smoke rose from their twitching bodies.
“What was—“
Is that…
She glanced toward Sorela as the woman lowered her arms. A strange blue symbol suspended in the air beside her began to fade.
Astonishing! she thought, inhaling deeply as she scabbled for her sword. It was laying in the grass right there, but like an idiot, she couldn’t seem to take it up in her fingers. Liesa’s eyes must have been the size of saucers as she glanced about. The remaining wretches were retreating into the trees while a few, still dazed, were finished off.
Was it over? Would they come back?
Panting, Leisa lowered herself to her stomach, turned onto her back. Fear began to subside. Opening her eyes, she saw brassen’s jaw hanging slack.
The yellow-haired warrior regarded the mage with what Leisa thought reverence. The Serafes, though surprised, showed less on their chissled faces.
Apparently Sorela was willing to use destructive magic in dire situations. So powerful and dangerous, she thought. What could nonviolent magecraft achieve?
Serin moved up beside Leisa, kneeled. He wasn’t looking at her. She jumped. A sickening feeling came to her stomach. The bodies looked...gnawed, as though a pack of...something had go at them.
Added with the smell of burnt flesh, that feeling in her stomach rose until she turned over to sick up.
“Is everyone else all right?” Lady Casen asked gravely.
Falan fingered a small stab wound in his arm as murmurs abounded. Jasen touched Leisa’s arm. “Are you—“ he tried to say, but he shook so hard—like a leaf.
“I’m—I’m fine,” she told him tremulously. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, forced herself to her feet.
Looking into Sorela’s eyes, she felt like she wanted to cry. Unexpectedly, the mage took her by the shoulder, and then wiped Laisa’s face—almost motherly—with her billowing sleeve.
“You’re soaking in blood, child.”
What was more horrifiying is that Sorela said the words as if she were talking about jam preserves!
Brassen still gaped between the two dead and mangled men-at-arms and the lady mage. Leisa tried not to look at the carnage, keeping her eyes shut, or else she would burst into sobs.
“We must push on.” Sorela said. “We are nearly there.”
Liesa covered her face with her hand.
She wants to continue?
How many more of them would die before they found Lord Jalen? If they found him at all? Perhaps none of them would escape this evil place.
Finally opening her eyes, she warily eyed the forest, eventually turning her eyes back up to the tangle above. She still felt like retching.
Oh gods—I will!