Meeta cut me off. “No talk! Run!”
I thought this was good advice so I kept running.
Until I heard them close in. Loretta cried out and I looked over my shoulder to see one of the bird-headed men had her.
Fuck!
“No!” I shrieked, turned, but Meeta was already there.
She yanked a short sword out of her belt and, without delay and looking like it wasn’t the first time she did it, she cut his head off.
Okay. Maybe she wasn’t Spock.
Maybe she was a Maroovian Russell Crowe-ian type gladiator.
There was no time to cheer, however, the others closed in.
One was close to me and I ducked like I saw Apollo duck when he was in the swordfight back at the inn. His sword whiffed over me and I came up, already thrusting my dagger forward. I plunged it in his gut and he fell back.
“Bad magic,” Meeta whispered, and I turned to her to see her beating back another one.
I also noted the one whose head she cut off didn’t fall even as I noticed Loretta was down, back on her hand, her own short sword raised, fending off a third.
No, the one with his head cut off just stood there as another head was growing in its place.
And worse. Another creature was growing from his severed head!
I had no time to totally freak right the f**k out at this; another one was rushing to attack me.
“Aim to maim!” I shouted. “You cut something off, it grows a new one.”
Alas, Loretta had managed to cut the arm off the one she was fighting and get back to her feet and the severed arm instantly started forming another creature.
I got my dagger in one and he fell back from me only for another one to close in.
“Keep moving toward Brunskar!” Meeta shouted, leading the one she was fighting in the direction we’d been going.
It must be said, I liked her mettle, but we couldn’t see any light through the trees. Even if we were heading that direction, the castle was far away. We couldn’t fight and make it there.
The good news was, I was a total amateur and I could tell these—whatever-they-were—were not real good at this shit.
The bad news was, their arms were longer, as were their swords, and as I fought the one I had on my hands, I noticed two more form out nothing.
“She sends more,” Meeta snapped, sounding peeved.
Just peeved.
Seriously?
Then I felt even more but I couldn’t tell seeing as now I was battling three.
All with one dagger.
We’ll just say I was doing a lot of lunging, ducking, swaying my torso back and rolling through the snow.
My dress was totally ruined.
As were my cloak and shoes.