Terry Goodkind - The Third Kingdom

When the opportunity presented itself, Richard leaped down from a rock onto the forest floor. Once back on more even ground and with a brief opening, he broke into a dead run. Seeing what he was doing and where he was heading, Samantha stayed a half a step ahead of him. Those chasing them on the more open ground, of course, could run faster as well, so Richard periodically had to turn to cut down any of the faster pursuers that got close. Sometimes, simply dodging to the side was enough to throw the horde of half people off stride long enough for Richard and Samantha to be able to put distance on them. Unfortunately, others came charging in from the sides and then they, too, had to be either dodged or dealt with.

Richard knew that he had to be effective with every single thing he did. If he missed once, darted the wrong direction, or made any mistake at all, they would be on him.

It felt like trying to outrun a cloud of angry gnats.

When he glanced back over his shoulder after he swung the blade, splitting the face of a woman who sprang up in front of him, he saw that most of those coming up from behind were trying to snatch Samantha rather than get to him.

Samantha was frantically using her hands to try to cast some kind of magic. Those coming for her showed no ill effect from her ability and it certainly wasn’t slowing them. Whatever she was doing obviously wasn’t working.

This was the same thing Henrik had reported about the attack on the column of troops. Henrik had told him that nothing Zedd or Nicci had done seemed to have had the desired effect. Samantha was now having that same difficulty with her gift. The whirlwind was the most effective thing Samantha had so far conjured, but in the forest, on the run, that kind of thing would do them little good.

He supposed that in a fight, those with the gift instinctively fell back on what they knew. But using her instincts was doing them no good. It was only using up her strength to no effect and slowing them down.

That was why Richard had wanted her to use her ability to make trees explode. Magic didn’t work directly against these unholy half dead, but exterior things, such as his sword, or even a rock to their heads, did work. They could be hurt, but not with magic directly. He had wanted her to make trees explode in order to cut down their attackers. That was how he had figured out magic could be used against them.

But Samantha had tried and she couldn’t do it.

Coming over the top of a rise, Richard lifted Samantha from the ground, spun her around, and set her down behind him out of the way. With both hands now on his sword, his swift blows cut into two men and a woman who rushed in at him. They all fell, clutching gaping wounds to try to hold their insides from spilling out. Richard knew that they would spend hours lying there on the ground, suffering a slow and agonizing death.

When he saw that the forest was getting ever more crowded with mobs of growling men and women closing in from all sides, he turned, looking for something they could use for a defensive position. Defense was not the way to win a battle, but at the moment he was rapidly running out of options.

He pointed with his bloody sword. “There!” he yelled at Samantha. “Get between those rocks! Get back in far enough that they can’t reach you!”

Without question or hesitation, Samantha scrambled to dive into a narrow split in the jumble of ledge jutting up from the forest floor. She was small enough to squeeze way back into the narrow split in the rock. He hoped she could go back in far enough to be out of the reach of all the half people grabbing for her, at least for a brief time, time enough to give him the chance to fight off the closest attackers.

Richard knew, though, that it wouldn’t protect her for long. Defensive action was not going to save them. There were simply too many half people swarming in from all around. It would only be a matter of time before some of the smaller among them squirmed far enough into the split in the rock to be able to reach in, get hold of her, and drag her out. If they did that, they would tear into her with their teeth and eat her alive on the spot.

Richard’s heart pounded with the fear of such a thought. He forced aside the horrific notion, making himself think instead of how to prevent such a thing from happening. He had made a calculated decision to keep her safe, if only temporarily. Now he had to make use of the chance that gave him to turn from defense to offense. Having her crouched back in the protection of the rock gave Richard at least a brief opening to fight off the half people without having to try to keep them off Samantha at the same time.

He knew that fighting off the hordes coming in at them wouldn’t be enough to save them, but it would stall the inevitable while he tried to come up with a better solution. It bought them both a bit of time, that was all. How much depended on him, on how hard he could fight, on how ferocious he could be.

It was already obvious that hacking them to pieces didn’t instill a sense of fear in the half people. They showed virtually no fear of anything. They wanted one thing, and one thing only. There was no way to outrun the half people, so he stood his ground and hacked away at them without pause.

Despite how hard he tried to come up with a solution as he fought, he couldn’t think of anything. He had no time to think, really. It took all his effort to continue to swing the sword, to continue to cut down the packs of people charging in all around him.

Richard stood on the high piece of ground he had staked out and unleashed the full fury of his anger at the throngs flocking in around him. He used the obstacles close in around him—tree trunks and a projection of rock—to keep his attackers from rushing straight in. He was merciless in the way he hacked apart clusters of people when they rushed in close enough. At the same time, he had to fight over and around growing piles of bloody corpses.

The tightly focused battle was an orgy of slaughter. Limbs, heads, and parts of bodies from men and women alike littered the ground. Some of the fallen, still alive, twitched in shock and agony. The rocky ledge was painted in a grotesque patchwork of viscera, vomit, urine, and blood.

As he fought, Richard had to be careful not to fall over the bodies or slip on the gore as he swung his sword and dodged fearless charges. The ground everywhere was spattered with a red rain. Blood dripped from the tips of leaves on the trees closest in all around and ran down the face of rocks. Severed fingers from people trying to grab the blade of his sword lay scattered over the rock, like fallen red leaves in autumn.

Richard’s arms began to feel as heavy as lead. It was tiring to swing the sword without pause. There was no time to catch his breath. Stopping for any reason would mean certain death.

He remembered the pain caused by the men who had attacked him, the pain of them biting him, trying to tear his flesh off with their teeth. That memory, that fear, that terror of such a gruesome end, not only for himself but for Samantha as well, drove him on with renewed fury.

Bodies and body parts lay in tangled heaps. The people running in to attack were tripping and falling over them before they could even get to Richard. Others were slipping on the blood and gore. Sprawled on the ground, they were all the easier to kill. As the ones still alive scrambled to their feet, they were covered in the blood of those they had fallen among, making it hard for Richard to know who he had cut and didn’t need to cut again, and who might still represent a threat, so he simply cut any of them within range.

The most they ever did to defend themselves was to lift an arm before their faces. That cost them the arm and then their head. It was ridiculously easy to kill such single-minded half people, but their sheer numbers were going to win out in the end, and then he and Samantha would be the ones butchered.