The Third Kingdom

Speed of movement was life. Richard wasted no time in continuing to engage the enemy unless he had to. Instead, when he could, he simply slipped through their ranks to escape their reaching hands as he pulled Samantha along with him through every sharp evasive turn he took. As he ran, he beheaded anyone that came in close enough, or took off the arms of those reaching in to keep them from getting hold of either Samantha or himself. He wasn’t interested in fighting them if he didn’t have to. There were too many to hope to eliminate them all. He was more interested in escaping, because fighting would risk being taken down and then having them get hold of Samantha.

It amazed him the way the half people charged in without any regard for their own safety. They showed little or no fear of his sword, only avoiding it sometimes as if it were nothing more than a mere nuisance on their way in to try to get to him. That made it all the easier for Richard to cut them down. They fell with terrible gaping wounds, or fell dead, in great numbers. The problem was that there were simply so many of them.

It was clear to Richard that their single-minded goal was to get at someone with a soul. That seemed to be all that mattered to them. Though they carried no weapons other than an occasional knife at their side, which he never saw one of them draw, their unwavering purpose in and of itself made them incredibly dangerous. In that purpose, their teeth were their weapons of choice.

As they attacked, they did little to protect themselves, and almost nothing to escape the certain death of his blade. They were determined to get what they were after. Nothing else mattered. Some were able to get in closer because he was so busy handling the great many presenting themselves for slaughter. But when he did get to them, they made easy targets of themselves.

Richard was only too happy to oblige them. The sword’s fury demanded their blood, and Richard’s anger was more than enough to provide the muscle the blade needed. He just wanted these monsters to stay away from him, and if killing them was the only way, then he killed them as fast as they came at him.

Holding Samantha’s wrist in his left hand, he pulled her like a rag doll, this way and that, to keep her out of the reaching hands of the half people. He danced over the tops of rock as soon as a slight opening in the rush of half people presented itself. He dodged from side to side to avoid reaching fingers, occasionally kicking men and women out of the way if that was all it took. If they presented a more serious threat and it took more than a kick, he used his sword to cut them down. As he raced through the woods, using the tops of outcroppings of ledge as stepping stones, he swung the sword one way, cutting down those to one side, and then with a backhanded swing slashed those on the other side, leaving a trail of blood, the dying, and bodies in his wake.

Some of the attackers growled or roared in their mania to get at the souls they wanted, or cried out in anger as they missed snatching his and Samantha’s legs. The ones he killed made very little noise as they were stabbed or slashed. Even the ones who lost a limb didn’t let out the kind of screams that a normal person would have had they taken such grievous wounds.

When the opportunity presented itself, Richard leaped down from a rock onto the forest floor. Once back on more even ground and with a brief opening, he broke into a dead run. Seeing what he was doing and where he was heading, Samantha stayed a half a step ahead of him. Those chasing them on the more open ground, of course, could run faster as well, so Richard periodically had to turn to cut down any of the faster pursuers that got close. Sometimes, simply dodging to the side was enough to throw the horde of half people off stride long enough for Richard and Samantha to be able to put distance on them. Unfortunately, others came charging in from the sides and then they, too, had to be either dodged or dealt with.

Richard knew that he had to be effective with every single thing he did. If he missed once, darted the wrong direction, or made any mistake at all, they would be on him.

It felt like trying to outrun a cloud of angry gnats.

When he glanced back over his shoulder after he swung the blade, splitting the face of a woman who sprang up in front of him, he saw that most of those coming up from behind were trying to snatch Samantha rather than get to him.

Samantha was frantically using her hands to try to cast some kind of magic. Those coming for her showed no ill effect from her ability and it certainly wasn’t slowing them. Whatever she was doing obviously wasn’t working.