Dragonlands(80)

He hacked and slashed, using every ounce of his strength until his muscles shrieked for respite. Fur flew in the air, followed by flesh. The light gray fog quickly changed to maroon, oozing with the blood of the beasts. Or of his companions. Bastian wouldn't turn away from the battle to see.

A wooly, muscled arm flung out at Bastian, knocking him down to the ground, taking all of his breath in one fell swoop. His sword slipped, just beyond his reach. Bastian shook his head, forcing clarity to return.

Through the mist, he saw a pike sticking out from the chest of one of the beasts, one of Bastian's men hung from the shaft, his legs dangling in the air. Still he didn't give up, Tom thrusted with all of his strength, desperately attempting to drive the spear deeper into the beast's chest. The beast howled, sending chills down Bastian's spine.

He pushed himself up to sitting, but his head still swam from the impact. The battle raged on around him. His men and women stepped up to the challenge, fighting the beasts with a passion and bloodlust Bastian didn’t know they had possessed. Simple life in Hutton's Bridge hadn't dulled their instincts after all.

Chips of oak flew through the air as their hastily made shields splintered upon impact. The might behind the beasts' arms arcing through the air were no match for their shields. Still, it bought time and the people of Hutton's Bridge needed every second they could muster.

Another wave of men came running through the fog, leaping toward the beasts. They hacked at their ankles, bringing beast after beast down to its knees. One beast lifted an arm, his paws bearing three of Bastian's men impaled on its claws. He popped all three in his mouth, filling the forest with the sound of crunching bones.

Men and women fell to the ground, landing in puddles of blood. The beasts were winning. Not one of them was felled yet.

Bastian heaved himself to his feet, reached down for his sword, and took off running. It was time to give the advantage to his people. He zigged and zagged through the battle, jumping over fallen friends without a second glance. At the feet of a beast, he speared it in the calf, then hoisted himself up and over its knee. His fingers knotted into the beast's fur, he pulled the sword out of its calf and stuck it in the beast's hip, pulling himself up again.

The beast swatted at him, but Bastian used its own momentum against it. Like a fly, he hopped around, never letting the lumbering beast touch him. It was used to fighting slowly in darkness, but Bastian had the advantage of light this time. He was quicker and more agile. Time to prove to the townspeople that the beast could be defeated.

Bastian pulled his sword out of the beast's hip. With one final thrust, he slid the sword into the beast's heart.

It cried out and stumbled to the side. Bastian pulled on his sword, then stuck the beast again in the same spot, giving the hilt a twist. Blood spurted out of its mouth, raining down on the assailants.

Bastian couldn't help but smile. He held on tight as the beast fell to the ground. Bastian climbed on top of its head. "They can be killed!" he yelled, shaking his sword.

The townspeople rallied, their arms swinging faster, thrusting harder, emboldened by the victory.

One after another, the beasts fell, until only Bastian’s army remained standing. Not without significant loss of life to the residents of Hutton's Bridge. Bastian walked among the dead, speaking their names aloud and committing them to memory. He'd brought them there and if he couldn't bring them home alive, he'd at least remember them.

"Now what, sir?" Garrick, one of the younger men of the community who shadowed him asked, “Are we free?"

"The fog still stands. We have one more foe left to defeat.”

“It can’t be worse than those.” Garrick pointed at the dead beasts with his sword.

“I don’t know,” Bastian said. “We’re about to find out.”





Chapter Fifty-One


"Let's move." Bastian wiped the blood off his blade with a large leaf.

"Where to now?" asked Tom. Blood was smeared across his face, erasing the smile he'd always projected. Battle changed him. It would change them all.

"If we keep moving ahead, we'll make our way out of here in no time." Bastian pointed ahead into the mist. He motioned to one of the candle bearers to come forward.

As the boy walked, the light bounced off the mist and tree branches, giving the forest a more frightening appearance. Beasts had lurked in a those shadows, drawing villagers from Hutton's Bridge to their deaths for many years. No longer.

"Walk with me," he told the boy. "We have no reason to hide any longer."

The boy nodded nervously. Still he kept pace with Bastian. Their feet trudged through the damp undergrowth. Bastian's breeches were soaked to mid-calf and clung to his legs like a snake to a vine.