Page 79 of Summer of Sacrifice

The other beasts and their Acolyte leashes were almost upon them.

“Come on, then. I haven’t got all day,” he growled at the monster.

Laurent held his ground, letting the beast charge him. Just before it reached him, he leapt high into the air, watching as the creature slid directly into one of the others charging into the fight. Laurent’s magic dropped him down onto the back of one as he used his axe to hack at the other.

The monster he rode bucked and howled, the Acolyte’s magic shooting toward him at lightning speed. Several shards of magic landed on him and the creature alike before he could get his ward up.

Swinging with all his might, the first beast finally fell unmoving to the forest floor, his neck wound a ghastly grin of flesh, and his back, face, and torso a show in gashes. Still bucking, the newcomer managed to throw Laurent off, straight into one of the Acolytes.

They landed in a tangle, Laurent slipping his dagger free of his boot. Moving faster than the Acolyte could see, he slammed him hard against the ground, still fully aware of the other two and their beasts prowling.

Shoving the dagger’s edge against his throat, the man’s hood fell back. He was so fucking young. It only took that split moment of hesitation for magic to finally pierce through his ward, gouging a sizzling hole in his shoulder where it had already been clawed.

As he flinched, crying out involuntarily, the young Acolyte almost wriggled free. But Laurent was faster. He slid the dagger along the boy’s throat without hesitation.

Wendy. For her, for his troupe, he could not hesitate.

These men could get to them if he didn’t have the guts to act, and they already had the other three left behind to contend with.

Pushing off the dead Acolyte, Laurent threw rage-filled magic at the other two Acolytes and their undead monstrosities. It was just enough to hold them back long enough for him to close the gap between them. His dagger pierced one through flesh, sinew, and muscle until only the hilt remained, the Acolyte’s robe flapping against it in the melee.

The beasts had slowed.

They still prowled, but they sniffed at their dead comrade, even whimpered.

The final Acolyte shouted, his magic wrapping around Laurent’s arm, burning him until he dropped the dagger involuntarily. Shooting his own magic forward, it clasped onto the other man’s, twisting in a vice-like grip until he cried out.

Shuffling forward, Laurent planted a kick to the man’s chest. The Acolyte doubled over, and Laurent took both of his shoulders in his hands, bending him down at the same time his knee came up to meet the man’s nose. A loud crunch came just before the scream and rush of blood.

Laurent ran, sliding to grab his fallen axe, taking it in hand just as one of the beasts charged him again. Its hollow eye sockets bore into his soul, a shiver raking through him, but he swung, sending every iota of his power into the blow. This time, the axe did not stick. The beast’s head fell from its shoulders, hitting the ground as its body stood frozen.

For a split moment, Laurent feared the undead were impossible to kill, unalive as they already were…but then its shoulders slumped, its torso bent, and it crumpled to the ground.

A chilling sound came forth from the final creature, a half-howl, half-cry that pierced the air. It righted its head, bent its too-human knees, and charged.

Exhausted but filled with crackling magic and adrenaline to boot, Laurent grinned. In that moment, he felt as inhuman as the thing running at him headfirst. Foreign entities at war.

“Your turn.” He flashed his teeth, axe ready, and ran for it. This beast rocked backwards just enough to give away its planned attack. When it lept, Laurent fell back, sliding beneath it, his axe ripping a gash from clavicle to navel. It yelped, landing hard in the dirt, its trajectory making it slide until it landed with a thud against a tree trunk.

It lay still as death, but Laurent would take no chances. This was the moment for all of them to know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, how to kill one of these creatures and keep it dead.

Slowly, Laurent moved toward it on the balls of his feet, axe raised, gripped tightly in both hands. He saw no movement, but he needed to be certain.

Throwing a quick glance at the other two monsters, he stalked slowly forward, axe poised above his head. They did not move either. Answering his gut instinct, he moved on quick feet toward the first beast he’d killed. He kicked it over, raised his axe higher, and slammed it down on the neck already gaping open.

Its head fell to the side, black blood oozing onto Laurent’s boots.

Closing the distance to the last beast, he raised the axe again, prepared to slice—to end this.

But the creature flipped over, swinging a leg wide, and Laurent fell back on his arse, dropping his weapon. Scrabbling backwards, he latched onto his axe again as the creature rose, its skin flayed open, viscera tumbling out, hanging, swinging.

It was no match for Laurent coming at it. His axe hit its temple. It fell to the dirt and Laurent finished the job, another head rolling.

Breathing hard, he dropped the axe and bent over, hands on his knees. At last, all the animalistic sounds faded out. Deep into the woods and far from his troupe, Laurent sat hard on a felled tree and prayed his troupe had finished the other three.

There, he waited.

WINNIE

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