Duel At Grimwood Creek (Book 2) by Lucas Thorn Page A

further away. It wore rags for clothes. And its flesh, even from this distance, looked rancid and peeling.  
    It howled as it caught sight of them. Slapped its stomach and headed toward them. A few more rolled out of the shadows on gnarled legs and followed in the same crooked gait.
    “Grim's mouldy fucking blistered cock! Move! Move! Come on, Long-ear!” He pushed past her, suddenly filled with the kind of energy that only comes when a heart is filled with horror. His robe flapped wildly. He looked, she thought, like a bat leaving the Shadowed Halls.  
    “Took the words right out of my mouth,” she murmured, skirting a large boulder and sprinting ahead.  
    More hoots erupted from their right, and the elf caught sight of more Draug spilling onto the plain. An army of them. They moved with the morbid gracelessness of the undead. Their bodies twisted like spastic puppets. But puppets with sharp claws and savage teeth.
    Scrambling faster as they caught sight of the desperate pair, the Draug possessed no plan short of using their overwhelming numbers of rabid mouths. A simple tactic, but brutally effective.
    A Flaw in the Glass hummed as she spun it in her fingers. Sprinting ahead, she ignored the warlock's cry for her stay close. Instead, sped forward, scouting the dark places between several massive boulders crumbling against each other.  
    Slowing only when she was certain there was nothing haunting the immediate area, she tried to push her fear of the approaching Draug aside and keep herself focussed on reaching the ruined fortress in the distance.
    Hoped that it was more or less intact and that somewhere inside the buckled walls was a building they could barricade themselves in.
    But the adrenaline pumping through her veins wasn't working in anticipation of a happy ending to the night, so she felt the thrill of danger take her to within a splinter of going berserk. She wiped sweat from her face and worked spit into her dry mouth.
    Spat at her feet as the warlock nearly barrelled into her.
    “Can we kill them?” He grabbed her shoulder to hold himself up. Grabbed loud mouthfuls of air.  
    Allowing him the chance to catch his breath, she shook her head. “Can't kill Draug.”
    “What?”  
    “They're already dead. Reckoned you would've known that, 'lock. Ain't undead your speciality?”  
    “Demons,” he whined. “I know about demons. There's a difference. Fucking undead? Simple. Just burn them. Got to burn them.”  
    “Fine. Spin us up some fireballs. You'll only need a few dozen, I figure. Couple hundred at most.”  
    “You know I can't.”  
    “Then best we get to the fortress. It's all we've got. Stop them from swamping us, and we'll be fine. They give up quick if we ain't taunting them.”  
    “Taunting them? What the fuck? How the fuck am I taunting them? I didn't say anything about their mothers! Not a fucking thing.” He screwed his face up. Looked far beyond exhausted. “Do they even have mothers?”  
    “You're taunting them by being alive, Chukshene. And not being in their stomachs.” Then, allowing she wasn't one for stirring motivational speeches, she aimed a kick at his ass and shoved him in the back. “So lift that fucking skirt and keep running!”  
    “Bitch!” His scowl creased his face like a bolt of lightning.  
    “Save your breath!”  
    “How far?”  
    She peered ahead, eyes squinting through the mist which seemed to thicken around the walls. Thin curls of mist were hovering around some of the rocks and boulders, making any guess of the distance uncertain. But she reckoned they were close.
    “Not far,” she decided. “Few minutes.”  
    “And how close,” his breath came in jagged gasps. “Are they?”  
    “Not far,” she said. A curtain of mist loomed in front of her nose. She was struck by its resemblance to a spider's web. But pushed her fears aside. It was just mist, she told herself. It was going to be wet and cold. That's all. She forced a grin.