She reined him in, trying to get him back under some semblance of control. He didn’t want to be here, and she didn’t want to either. It would be better to leave this place, leave the dead for whatever they were after.
She was turning him to go, to keep riding far away from this place, when she heard it. The terrified wail of a child.
Rachael’s heart dropped. There were kids on the bus.
Every ounce of flight reflex was gone, every ounce of self-preservation. Now she had a mission, something she needed to do, someone to save. She might not be a superhero or the heroine of a book, but she was the only hero they had right now.
“I’m sorry, Pablo.” The horse’s ears were flat on his head, eyes panicked. “I know you want to run, but we have to do this. I know we can do this.”
Most of the mass of dead was still distracted by the people inside the bus, their trapped prey, but Rachael was glad for that. A swarm of even five dead could overpower someone, and there were probably twenty or so, though it was hard to get an exact count. They were all slow, stained and tattered clothing falling off of bone and flesh. They all seemed a unified rust color as they moved, not individual people but a large mass of monsters.
This was life or death now, the big bad boss at the end of the level. She was staring it in the face, and there was no escape. She would have to fight.
“I am Arwen and Eowyn, I am Alanna and Arya.” She yelled out loud to an unresponsive mass of the dead, raising her sword above her head as if she were inspiring an army to charge into battle, “I am Sif, I am Xena.” She took a breath, trying to gather her courage. “I am Rachael, I am a warrior and I am not afraid.”
Squeezing Pablo’s sides, she urged him forward, charging down at an Orc that had turned to respond to her yelling. Her sword sang through the air, the crunch of splitting bone as the sword pierced the skull and the body collapsed. Her horse seemed to understand what she was thinking and kept to the edge, dancing out of the reach of the snapping grabbing hands that were now turning their attention to her instead of the bus.
As he ran, a handful of the Orcs turned to follow, giving Rachael the time to slice and stab, dropping their bodies and turning her attention to the next ones that came through.
There were five down now, but the horde kept coming.
Rachael was losing track, she felt like she had already killed more than a dozen, but there never seemed to be an end to this mass of bodies. She had no idea how many she had actually killed, all she knew was that she needed to keep going. Her arm hurt, and her hand was slippery from the sticky black blood of the dead. She clenched her fingers tighter around the hilt of the dagger. Any mistake meant her death. She knew that.
An Orc grabbed onto her leg, teeth attaching to her boot as she tried to kick them away, dragging her out of the saddle as it pulled her down. She yelled, whether from fear or surprise or as a war cry she wasn’t sure, driving the dagger down through its skull with such force that she fell as the body crumpled, carrying her blade and her with it as another Orc latched its teeth onto Pablo, ripping a gash into his side as the horse let out something akin to a scream, more Orcs diving for his legs, teeth driving into the soft flesh they found there.
She hit the ground hard as Pablo fell, the air driving from her lungs as she rolled, trying to jump back up to her feet. The horde was split, half of the Orcs still continuing their assault on the bus, the others stumbling towards her, yellow teeth gnashing. One grabbed onto her forearm, teeth sinking into the thick leather. She swung her sword jerkily, ribs protesting, and she missed the skull, sinking her sword into the base of the neck. Wincing, she let go of the sword, using the hand to grab a dagger out of her belt and sinking that into the weak part of the skull at the top of the head of the Orc, which dropped
She was turning him to go, to keep riding far away from this place, when she heard it. The terrified wail of a child.
Rachael’s heart dropped. There were kids on the bus.
Every ounce of flight reflex was gone, every ounce of self-preservation. Now she had a mission, something she needed to do, someone to save. She might not be a superhero or the heroine of a book, but she was the only hero they had right now.
“I’m sorry, Pablo.” The horse’s ears were flat on his head, eyes panicked. “I know you want to run, but we have to do this. I know we can do this.”
Most of the mass of dead was still distracted by the people inside the bus, their trapped prey, but Rachael was glad for that. A swarm of even five dead could overpower someone, and there were probably twenty or so, though it was hard to get an exact count. They were all slow, stained and tattered clothing falling off of bone and flesh. They all seemed a unified rust color as they moved, not individual people but a large mass of monsters.
This was life or death now, the big bad boss at the end of the level. She was staring it in the face, and there was no escape. She would have to fight.
“I am Arwen and Eowyn, I am Alanna and Arya.” She yelled out loud to an unresponsive mass of the dead, raising her sword above her head as if she were inspiring an army to charge into battle, “I am Sif, I am Xena.” She took a breath, trying to gather her courage. “I am Rachael, I am a warrior and I am not afraid.”
Squeezing Pablo’s sides, she urged him forward, charging down at an Orc that had turned to respond to her yelling. Her sword sang through the air, the crunch of splitting bone as the sword pierced the skull and the body collapsed. Her horse seemed to understand what she was thinking and kept to the edge, dancing out of the reach of the snapping grabbing hands that were now turning their attention to her instead of the bus.
As he ran, a handful of the Orcs turned to follow, giving Rachael the time to slice and stab, dropping their bodies and turning her attention to the next ones that came through.
There were five down now, but the horde kept coming.
Rachael was losing track, she felt like she had already killed more than a dozen, but there never seemed to be an end to this mass of bodies. She had no idea how many she had actually killed, all she knew was that she needed to keep going. Her arm hurt, and her hand was slippery from the sticky black blood of the dead. She clenched her fingers tighter around the hilt of the dagger. Any mistake meant her death. She knew that.
An Orc grabbed onto her leg, teeth attaching to her boot as she tried to kick them away, dragging her out of the saddle as it pulled her down. She yelled, whether from fear or surprise or as a war cry she wasn’t sure, driving the dagger down through its skull with such force that she fell as the body crumpled, carrying her blade and her with it as another Orc latched its teeth onto Pablo, ripping a gash into his side as the horse let out something akin to a scream, more Orcs diving for his legs, teeth driving into the soft flesh they found there.
She hit the ground hard as Pablo fell, the air driving from her lungs as she rolled, trying to jump back up to her feet. The horde was split, half of the Orcs still continuing their assault on the bus, the others stumbling towards her, yellow teeth gnashing. One grabbed onto her forearm, teeth sinking into the thick leather. She swung her sword jerkily, ribs protesting, and she missed the skull, sinking her sword into the base of the neck. Wincing, she let go of the sword, using the hand to grab a dagger out of her belt and sinking that into the weak part of the skull at the top of the head of the Orc, which dropped
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