Chapter 3 Prince Sloth #2
They were testing the boundaries, gauging my reaction to their nearness. They wanted to see if I was afraid or if they’d need to change tactics.
Soon they’d discover they’d gone hunting for a lamb only to find they’d cornered a lion.
I widened my stance, both to ensure they focused on me and to prepare myself.
Patience won battles and wars more often than brute force. The best strategies were plotted carefully, not incited by emotion.
There were no Princes of Sin more patient than me.
The spiders’ bouncing intensified, the erratic rhythm turning more frenzied. They were growing restless; most of their prey probably panicked by now.
The damp heat of their breath swept over me, the sulfurous scent like rotten eggs. They’d fed recently.
A savage part of me hoped Xavier had found his end.
A quiet gag sounded behind me, the noise so unexpected I shook my head in disbelief.
Perhaps the woman was trying to distract me enough for the spiders to attack—then she’d haul herself down the mountain while they were otherwise occupied and race after the book.
“What?” she asked, voice irritated.
“Pungent breath is what you’re upset about right now?”
“Everyone has their limits.”
“Yours are simply strange.”
“Says the maniac choosing to have a conversation instead of focusing on the giant, creepy spiders surrounding us.”
“A strategic conversation.”
“Well, as long as it’s all part of your diabolical plot to keep us alive, carry on.”
My senses prickled. It was the only warning I received.
“Stay back!”
I moved on instinct as one Lycosidae sprang forward.
I might not be able to die as an immortal, but they could bring me back to their web and inject venom into me, feeding in an endless cycle until I went mad.
I shifted to the side, narrowly avoiding another crushing blow as it pounced for me again, mindful of keeping it far from the woman.
Using my full strength, I kicked its midsection, launching it back several feet. It collided with its pack, then reared up, raising its front legs like a spooked horse.
Based on its size and viciousness, I wagered it was the alpha.
Before it brought those lethal legs down, I lunged forward, shearing the front two limbs off at the upper joint, then raced to the side to do the same to two more legs, my blade easily tearing through its tendons and skin.
It wasn’t enough to end this.
I dove under it and swung upward, carving into its abdomen, then jumped back as gelatinous fluid seeped out.
Dark blood sprayed out from the severed limbs, splattering across my leathers.
It all happened within seconds.
For one drawn-out breath, silence descended.
Then the maimed Lycosidae screeched as it stumbled to the ground, the unholy sound seeming to possess a hundred voices rolled into one.
Death would not be swift for it.
I watched, emotionless, as it thrashed, spilling blood faster with each frantic movement.
The brutality of my attack was meant to warn the others off, to spare them their lives. But these were creatures born of nightmares; they welcomed violence, craved it.
They took it as a challenge, not a deterrent.
Nature didn’t believe in mercy; there was only predator or prey.
The pack screamed their rage, their hackles raised as they screeched a mournful promise of vengeance. Their chittering grew so loud it rattled in my skull.
I swore.
There were too many of them for us to slip past and use the distraction to our advantage.
I considered carrying the woman but didn’t want to chance slipping or being rammed by a spider and losing my footing.
One mistake or misstep and we’d fall over the mountain’s edge.
I spared a quick glance back; the woman’s eyes were wide and fixed on the gore. All humor had drained from her and shock seemed to be settling in.
That wasn’t good.
Movement caught my attention as the alpha finally stilled.
“Run when I tell you to.”
The woman didn’t seem to be in the present anymore; she was completely lost to fear.
“Peaches. You need to focus.”
Her gaze snapped to mine, a new fire burning within it.
“Did you just call me peaches?”
“Keep your wits about you. If you die, it’s not my problem.”
She swore roundly, calling me several colorful names, which I ignored.
I twisted around as the remaining seven beasts leapt at me, attacking as a unit.
I retreated to that cold, dark place fit for killing.
I became as dangerous as a storm, unleashing myself upon the nightmare spiders as I drove them back toward the cliff’s edge.
I ended them swiftly, landing mortal wounds that would ensure they didn’t suffer.
Stab, strike, retreat.
It didn’t matter if they were Nocturnas or mortals or underworld beasts—my blade was indiscriminate, my dance of death unmatched.
One went down quickly. Then another.
A sharp metallic tang lingered in the air, a repulsive mixture of blood and gore. I ignored it as I stabbed and slashed.
The creatures shrieked in frustration as another of their rank went down. There was no mercy in this death song, only kill or be killed.
I had no time to waste on distractions; every moment I spent here was a moment the Book of Nightmares got farther away.
My cloak flew out behind me as I struck at the approaching creatures. They were just as ravenous to destroy me.
I clenched my jaw and gripped my blade tightly, wielding it like an extension of my body.
The steel glinted under the moonlight as I swung it in wide arcs above my head, bringing it down repeatedly with all my might.
The giant spiders kept lunging at me, their glittering eyes filled with savage bloodlust as their hairy legs scuttled across the ground.
Their mandibles clicked menacingly as they attempted to overpower me.
In my periphery I tracked the woman as she huddled against the mountain.
Another war cry drew my attention back. The beta struck out, narrowly missing my heart.
I hurtled out of reach, then doubled back, teeth bared.
I plunged my dagger into an attacker, the warmth of its blood coating my skin. It went down, leaving only three more spiders to deal with.
Instead of taking turns, the rest of the pack jumped as a killing unit.
In and out, one after the other, striking, biting, retreating, masters of their own death march. They were learning my moves, anticipating them.
They were much more cunning than the Nocturnas had been.
I shut all thoughts down save for one: ending this battle.
Spiders attacked with a renewed frenzy, their clawed legs tearing through my leather armor, slicing into my skin with frightening ease.
Venom seared through my veins, but thankfully the gashes weren’t debilitating.
I clenched my jaw, channeling all my determination into each strike, my dagger whirling overhead before I smashed it down onto my enemies.
Blood drenched the grass beneath me, transforming the ground into a slick battlefield that threatened my balance with every step.
My muscles strained with each swing and parry, but the spiders were feral now, the battle raging in a chaotic dance of blood and steel versus claws and teeth.
I rammed the hilt of my dagger into the center of one spider, flinging myself back as a hundred smaller spiders erupted from within.
Their bodies were the size of small dogs.
I froze for a moment at the sight before spinning on my heel.
We needed to retreat. Now.