boulders. Their excitement chilled her to the bone as fear clutched an icy hand around her spine.
The warlock bounced off a boulder as they ran. “Fuck,” he swore, rubbing his shoulder as he tried to keep upright. “Nysta. They're gaining. I thought you said they were slow!”
They are, Chukshene,” she said, gliding over the terrain in a way that made the warlock think of running water. He turned his lip jealously as she glanced at him. Grinning, the elf finished mildly; “But so are you.”
“Slow? Me?” His voice rose sharply as terror and outrage competed for equal footing. Outrage won, for now. “Bullshit, slow! I'll tell you, Long-ear, when I was an apprentice, I out-fucking-ran orks! I'd race those greenskinned fuckers all over Doom's Reach. Any time! And I never fucking lost. So you can stick your slow up your skinny fucking ass! Fuck you. I'm slow? I'm faster than fuck.”
“What happened since then, Chukshene?” The elf leapt nimbly onto a large chunk of stone almost as tall as she was. Pulling herself up, she shot the panting warlock an amused look. “Let me guess. You took an arrow to the knee?”
“What?” He reeled forward, almost drunkenly. Winced and leaned hard against the stone, sweat dripping down his face. His tone was miserable. “What the fuck are you talking about? I'm fit. Fast. I can fucking outrun anything. Anything, I tell you. Just give me a minute. Catch my breath. Just one fucking minute. Shit, I've been running for weeks. Months, maybe.”
She felt her heart race as more shadows flickered in the distance.
Ten. Twenty? Thirty?
Fucking fifty, for all she knew. Too many to count.
Too many to kill?
The sharp tip of her tongue dragged over the top of her lip as she dropped her hand to A Flaw in the Glass . Was there such a thing as too many to kill?
But these were Draug, she reminded herself. It was impossible to kill undead with normal blades.
Well. Almost impossible.
Something deep inside her considered the challenge.
Grinning at the madness of the thought, the elf dropped next to the warlock and slapped a hand on his shoulder. “We've got to go, Chukshene. Now. Run, or be killed. Your choice.”
His face was haggard and his expression haunted as he looked up. His eyes watered, unable to focus properly. “I can't. Nysta, I'm fucked.”
Her fist took him clean on the cheek and he was thrown back, sprawling over the hard stone ground. It wasn't a heavy punch. Just enough to get his attention.
It worked.
Clutching his cheek, the warlock shot her a surprised look. “What the fuck did you do that for?”
“Wake you up.” She bared her teeth and ran her fingers through her hair, feeling the pressure of time squeezing in on her. “Look, Chukshene, I know you're tired. I know you reckon you can't go on. You want to just sit here. Want to make a stand right here. But I'm telling you, we can't. This ain't the place. And if you think I'll stay out here and die for you, you're wrong. So you get the fuck up right now, and you run. You run until your fucking heart explodes in your chest. And then you get up and you fucking run some more. Because if you don't, you're a dead fuck. And there ain't nothing I can do to save you. You listening, Chukshene? You get the fuck up right now. You hear me? Right fucking now.”
He massaged his cheek, fresh blood moist between his fingers. His expression was hurt, but slowly he nodded as reality swamped hysteria. Pulled himself to his feet, shoulders slumped. “I hear. And I'm sorry. I must look like a weak shit to you.”
The elf felt a brief stab of guilt as she remembered his reason for not sleeping was to watch over her. But she had no choice but to urge him on. “Tell you what's worse.”
“What?”
“Those fellers there.” She pointed a finger to where a figure lurched into view. Too far to be an immediate threat, it was nonetheless more solid than the spidery shadows still darting between the rocks
The warlock bounced off a boulder as they ran. “Fuck,” he swore, rubbing his shoulder as he tried to keep upright. “Nysta. They're gaining. I thought you said they were slow!”
They are, Chukshene,” she said, gliding over the terrain in a way that made the warlock think of running water. He turned his lip jealously as she glanced at him. Grinning, the elf finished mildly; “But so are you.”
“Slow? Me?” His voice rose sharply as terror and outrage competed for equal footing. Outrage won, for now. “Bullshit, slow! I'll tell you, Long-ear, when I was an apprentice, I out-fucking-ran orks! I'd race those greenskinned fuckers all over Doom's Reach. Any time! And I never fucking lost. So you can stick your slow up your skinny fucking ass! Fuck you. I'm slow? I'm faster than fuck.”
“What happened since then, Chukshene?” The elf leapt nimbly onto a large chunk of stone almost as tall as she was. Pulling herself up, she shot the panting warlock an amused look. “Let me guess. You took an arrow to the knee?”
“What?” He reeled forward, almost drunkenly. Winced and leaned hard against the stone, sweat dripping down his face. His tone was miserable. “What the fuck are you talking about? I'm fit. Fast. I can fucking outrun anything. Anything, I tell you. Just give me a minute. Catch my breath. Just one fucking minute. Shit, I've been running for weeks. Months, maybe.”
She felt her heart race as more shadows flickered in the distance.
Ten. Twenty? Thirty?
Fucking fifty, for all she knew. Too many to count.
Too many to kill?
The sharp tip of her tongue dragged over the top of her lip as she dropped her hand to A Flaw in the Glass . Was there such a thing as too many to kill?
But these were Draug, she reminded herself. It was impossible to kill undead with normal blades.
Well. Almost impossible.
Something deep inside her considered the challenge.
Grinning at the madness of the thought, the elf dropped next to the warlock and slapped a hand on his shoulder. “We've got to go, Chukshene. Now. Run, or be killed. Your choice.”
His face was haggard and his expression haunted as he looked up. His eyes watered, unable to focus properly. “I can't. Nysta, I'm fucked.”
Her fist took him clean on the cheek and he was thrown back, sprawling over the hard stone ground. It wasn't a heavy punch. Just enough to get his attention.
It worked.
Clutching his cheek, the warlock shot her a surprised look. “What the fuck did you do that for?”
“Wake you up.” She bared her teeth and ran her fingers through her hair, feeling the pressure of time squeezing in on her. “Look, Chukshene, I know you're tired. I know you reckon you can't go on. You want to just sit here. Want to make a stand right here. But I'm telling you, we can't. This ain't the place. And if you think I'll stay out here and die for you, you're wrong. So you get the fuck up right now, and you run. You run until your fucking heart explodes in your chest. And then you get up and you fucking run some more. Because if you don't, you're a dead fuck. And there ain't nothing I can do to save you. You listening, Chukshene? You get the fuck up right now. You hear me? Right fucking now.”
He massaged his cheek, fresh blood moist between his fingers. His expression was hurt, but slowly he nodded as reality swamped hysteria. Pulled himself to his feet, shoulders slumped. “I hear. And I'm sorry. I must look like a weak shit to you.”
The elf felt a brief stab of guilt as she remembered his reason for not sleeping was to watch over her. But she had no choice but to urge him on. “Tell you what's worse.”
“What?”
“Those fellers there.” She pointed a finger to where a figure lurched into view. Too far to be an immediate threat, it was nonetheless more solid than the spidery shadows still darting between the rocks
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