The conclusion to Filius Mortis and Grosse Mann's epic fight... enjoy...
Tome: When the Night Falls
Chapter 2 Continued...
Dead Weight sprinted across the clearing, the fence was miles away and he had already used too much Necromancy to escape into the shadows. He took a quick glance at his hands and saw them fade a little. No. Any more Necromancy and he would fade away into the shadows that his magic fed off.
The gunshot resonated and the ground beside him spat earth up at him. Dead Weight ignored it and instead dived for the ground, landing heavily on it and crawling. Movement was slow. Excruciatingly slow. He needed to be out of here, not pinned down in a field.
As the sun rose up above the tree line, Dead Weight reached the fence. Pushing it open with his hand, he crawled into the next field and closed the gate behind him.
The corn had grown high this year. Crawling into it he knelt and hoped that the top of his head wouldn’t show above the top of the corn.
Dead Weight made quicker progress through the corn fields on his feet and using his hands for support. Beside him he could see something moving alongside him. It hadn’t noticed him… but he had noticed it.
It looked about the size and bulk of an average human being and moved along beside him at the same pace.
His hand shot out and he grabbed its neck and pulled it through clamping his hand over the human’s mouth and throat and waited. Soon, the human fell to the ground unconscious.
Dead Weight continued to walk through the corn fields and found himself at the road. Checking both ways (not wanting to have come this far to be knocked over by a passing car) he crossed the road and darted into the forest. Like a ghost he darted between the trees and ducked under branches escaping his enemies. Then Dead Weight hit the floor and moved under a log.
There were more of them. In the clearing a head of him. And they might have seen him…
He could hear them coming closer towards him and he pushed himself farther under the log and watched as a pair of boots moved beside his eyes.
Dead Weight’s breathing froze and his eyes stayed straight open. Then he saw the boots move out of his eyesight and the weight pushed down on him.
His face changed to a grimace feeling the weight of the log on his body. Dead Weight held his painful wine in and gasped for breath.
Then another set of boots came into view and said, “We’ve found another body.”
“Where?” the man asked on top of the log stepping down.
Dead Weight breathed again thankful.
“Alive, in the corn fields,” the man said and Dead Weight couldn’t help but smile.
“My handiwork,” he thought happily.
Dead Weight rolled himself out from under the log and lay on his back and rested. He knew that he couldn’t stop but he wasn’t moving, wasn’t running. It was beautiful.
Although eventually he had to force himself up off of the ground and when he did he saw the barrel of the gun.
Swearing, Dead Weight darted to his left, then right avoiding the seemingly random spray of bullets until he was close enough to take a swinging slash at the gunman.
Grabbing the handle of his sword he pulled it out of the scabbard and in the same movement racked it across the man’s body.
Although before he could manage that feat, the man brought his gun around and held it defending himself from attack. Holding it by the butt of the gun he brought it around like a club. Dead Weight stepped back avoiding the mighty swing of the weapon and attacked back with his lighter, quicker sword.
The strike left a long cut along the gunman’s leg and he staggered backwards. Dead Weight swung his foot around and took his feet from underneath him. Then another kick to the head left him unconscious.
Dead Weight continued the running, he had to escape then the pain seared through his leg and he fell to the ground and limped forward a couple for feet before landing flat on his face.
Perhaps he hadn’t of kicked him in the face as hard as he would have liked to…
No comments:
Post a Comment