An Apocalypse Rising Ch. 08

"I'll stay with this one," Jessa said with some enthusiasm. "It's so sweet when the strong ones break." She looked to Kestral. "Return to yourself and wait for Her will."

Kestral smiled as Jessa led Abren down to the nearest tangle of bodies, hands reaching out, eager for a new piece of flesh to welcome to Her service. Jessa smiled. They all killed their wills in the end. The temptation She offered was too great. The stubborn ones like this one needed one of Her chosen to help cloud that stubbornness and whittle it away until they surrendered.

Being that direct instrument was sexual beyond words and Jessa touched herself as a strapping young male mounted and two pairs of female hands started massaging the soldier's firm flesh. Abren looked on in anticipation and dismay as the cock drove home. Her head snapped back to find a woman's pouting lips waiting for her.

When her tongue darted out to meet it, the half-mage's smile broadened.

It was only a matter of time.

* * *

Neral felt good just now as she and hers ran from the glorious red fire that was in the midst of consuming one of the egg storage caverns, complete with the sounds of those things dead or dying in a symphony of screeches and wails of pain and desperation as they burned. There was no sympathy in her heart for the things whose only purpose was to bring pain to others.

The people were another matter. They were lost, but not due to any real fault of their own and, if they threatened her or those with her it might have been different, but, as it was, it didn't seem honorable to attack them. They let themselves be ordered from the rooms with a firm voice and little else. Neral would strike, then leave quickly, retreating to the tunnels and spaces that formed something of an outer ring in her lair.

Resistance seemed to increase with each strike and Neral hoped that that meant that the others were drawing attention. The beast's responses occurred more quickly and in greater numbers, but so far there hadn't been anything that they couldn't dispatch with the modified weapons, which was a positive, but they had to remind themselves that, just because they made things easier, there was still no room for sloppy and that fate would likely punish it.

Dion was a strong right hand and, as time had gone on, especially in this type of action Neral realized why Elan spoke sparingly. In the heat of battle she just seemed uncannily intuitive. She seemed to know where and how to move to complement the others. She was an impressive dancer that way for someone with so little practical experience.

"They're going to close on us soon, sir," she'd said, seemingly reluctant to inform her of something that the other surely already knew. The noose tightens. I'm sure that you're already aware..."

Dion and Neral exchanged amused glances. "We are, but don't let that stop you from saying something to anyone. Maybe they do know or should, but keeping quiet on the assumption that they do could cost. We'll move up the ring, then deeper in. It'll buy us time and maybe help Deres, too."

She spoke as they moved. "You're doing well, Elan. Hope the swords and daggers are not too troublesome. You do well with both." She hefted her short sword and glanced at the dagger tucked into her belt. Thank you, sir. Arrows don't work up close."

"You could just stick them with the pointy end," Dion remarked.

"That's what blades are for, sir. Though I have indeed done so."

"Fair enough."

Indistinct voices could be heard in the distance of the empty corridor. Neral hunched and slowed her pace, creeping forward to listen. At first she suspected that they were half-mages for the simple fact that that they were speaking in full sentences and without that dreaming, blissful quality, but a more keen focus on the words painted the picture and she hurried her pace, looking about for signs that it was drawing attention.

They entered the large cave that, judging by the contents seemed to be storage to find what appeared to be a father and daughter backing up towards the crack in the rock, clearly larger than the one that Neral and her group came through. This time it was a ginger-haired woman in a white wrap, but the scene was familiar enough. "We just want to go now. We didn't mean to bother anyone."

"You need to stay," the young woman said imperturbably. "Outside is not safe. Stay, we will protect you."

The young brunette shook her head. "We need to get out of here."

In a single, swift move she wrapped her right arm around her neck, while bracing it with the left, applying pressure until she felt the weight of the other sag before leading her gently to the ground.

Everything after that happened quickly.

Neral looked to the two, about to, "Are you all right?" about to pass her lips when she saw that, without the fear in their eyes there was little else.

Then the rustling from above drew their eyes upward to see the thick, green vines descend from the high ceiling.

Dion braced herself. "Shit."

Neral let them come near, trying not to reach to hack at them. It was a valiant dance for all of them, but even the vines that had taken slashes seemed to have no end. Half a dozen became a dozen and those became more while the man and woman just watched, Neral thinking that if they were thinking at all they were probably actively rooting for the vines.

There was no backing out for themselves because many split in opposite directions to form a wall against the exits. There wasn't time to wonder if it was a trap for her or for just anyone, though she had her suspicions. One wrapped around her left arm over the elbow and pulled it upward before her blade cut smoothly through it. They sliced at anything that got near, trying to help each other as much as themselves.

But Neral knew a losing battle when she saw it. More were coming and all this was doing was sapping their energy. She heard even more rustle around her coupled with the sounds of metal cutting through them and the sounds of Dion and Elan as they projected their strength, the vines now teasing them all over.

The general swung low to take the spell glass from her boot and place it under her tongue as the vines took her limbs in their harsh embrace.

To Be Continued...