Dawn of Arcane Destiny

Chapter Fifty-Three

Drayce recovered from his shock fast enough to stab another Insentient monster before it reached Lillia. It healed itself just as fast as the other one had. She screamed again, clutching her dagger in a white knuckled grasp. He cursed himself for letting her come. He prayed to no god in particular that she would be able to sufficiently defend herself. He wasn’t sure if he could singlehandedly protect both of them, with so many Insentients crawling around.

Their best chance was to escape, but how did you escape when you were surrounded? This can’t get any worse. He groaned to himself.

Right as he thought that the window shattered the rest of the way, glass flying into the small room. Drayce barely had time to throw his arm up to protect his face from the glass. More creatures climbed through the barely serviceable window. The cuts they sustained from the glass still on the frame, lingered only a moment before healing themselves. Drayce wondered if there was a limit to their power. It didn’t seem so.

If they sustained an unrepairable injury, like decapitation, would that keep them from healing? He looked resentfully down at his knife. He hoped it would be enough. The Midnight Insentients hadn’t fully attacked yet. They stood around swaying. They kept up their eerie chant: Shalddwell, Shalddwell.

  “Stabs and cuts do nothing.” Drayce murmured to his two companions. “You have to do real damage; I don’t think they can heal from severed limbs or head. Our only chance is to escape.”

Caelum nodded; his look determined. Lillia still looked horrified but nodded. Drayce took up his combat stance and waited for the monstrosities to advance.

It was then that he heard another sibilate voice that did not match the others. Drayce knew in a heartbeat that it was Keir.

Show no restraint.

The first one that met Drayce’s blade didn’t live to fulfill the order. His head hit the floor with a sickening thump. The body followed. The black blood soaked Drayce’s shoes, but he didn’t have time to consider this as more surged forward.

From what Drayce could observe, most of them did not have weapons. Some had broken glass, their hands clutching the improvised shivs, their inky blood flowing and splattering to the floor. Then Drayce saw the soldiers. Their forest green uniforms hard to make out in dark, but they had military issued swords. The grimy metal flashing in the moonlight shining through the small window. They were dressed to protect the land of Kamasia, but their soulless eyes resided in direct contradiction. The sight made Drayce sick.

A lady slashed at his face with her improvised knife. His instincts called for him to duck before he realized what was happening. He sliced her across the gut and then cut off her hand holding the jagged piece of glass. She screamed and stumbled back right into a sword of a solider. She grew completely still and was shoved to the floor.

Drayce fought down the bile creeping up his throat at the sight. The solider lunged at him with his sword. Drayce gritted his teeth. He was at a disadvantage with a dagger instead of a longer sword, however he had trained for this. In his mind, he heard Scruff gruffly instructing them. Knife to sword can be difficult. Get in close. A close fight will leave them at a disadvantage. Always look for ways to make your disadvantage an advantage, and your enemy will suffer. He threw himself forward, forcing the man to fight in close. The top three quarters of the man’s blade was left useless.