As soon as Richard broke through and gained the ground between all the people and the Glee, he spun around to attack them head-on.
“Now!” he called out to the Mord-Sith to be heard over the hisses and screeches of the Glee.
His sword whistled through the air as he sliced through the advancing invaders, swiftly lopping off claws as they used them to attack. Dark, glossy heads thudded down on the ground, bounced, and rolled among the advancing Glee. All of the severed claws and heads were a distraction that turned them away from their intended target of the stunned crowd. Infuriated, they instead all charged in at him. The people unwittingly helped him by continually falling back or running away, opening up fighting space and keeping the Glee from reaching them.
At the same time as Richard was hacking his way through the enemy coming at him, the Mord-Sith, now ordered into the battle, attacked from behind with Agiel in one hand and knives in the other. The Glee found themselves trapped between deadly attacks from the front and the rear at the same time. Many became confused, not knowing who to defend themselves from. Others began turning to scribbles to escape back into their own world to avoid certain death. Many more hesitated too long and it cost them their lives.
What Richard had learned about fighting them from the previous attack served him well. He had learned how the Glee moved their arms and claws, where those claws were dangerous, and where they were useless on their backswings or when their arms were extended. They also fought as individuals, not as a cohesive force, which made it easier for him to take out individuals.
Their main weakness was that each of them wanted to be the one to sink their claws and needle-sharp teeth into the helpless townspeople, not fight a battle. They each had their own agenda to be the first to get at the people and feed on them. As such, they had no regard for protecting one another, working together, or forming a united front. He scythed his way through their ranks, and claws, arms, and heads began to litter the ground as he perfected his technique of taking advantage of their weaknesses.
It became almost a game to him, a dance with death in which they had no chance to touch him as he spun and dodged through their midst.
At their rear, the Mord-Sith attacked them from behind and took down unsuspecting Glee, bringing surprised cries of pain as they were stabbed, or hit with the horrific power of an Agiel. Hearing the shrieks of pain, many turned to the new threat, which left them vulnerable to Richard’s blade. Many realized that mistake too late to save themselves.
The creatures in the center of that hammer and anvil paused in confusion. They hadn’t expected to be suddenly trapped between two dangerous threats interrupting their single-minded lust for the slaughter of the townspeople. They began to realize that what they had at first thought would be overwhelming numbers was not nearly enough and was dwindling by the second. As Glee fell dead, their assault began to fall apart. They had expected the panic of the townspeople to aid them in their attack, but now, instead, panic swept through their own ranks. They were quickly being overpowered by Richard’s whirling blade on one side and the Mord-Sith dodging and weaving in to press their lethal attack from the other.
Even as the dark creatures were falling dead or seriously wounded all around them, the remaining Glee, gripped by terror, almost all at the same time turned to scribbles and vanished.
As soon as they were gone, the Mord-Sith moved quickly among the wounded on the ground and cut their throats. Panting from the effort, Richard scanned the area for any further threat, prepared for another surprise attack.
Exhausted not only from the physical effort but from the storm of rage pounding through him from the sword, he sheathed the weapon so that he could recover.
A group of healers in the dark dresses and full skirts rushed in and surrounded him.
“Hurry,” Rita called out.
Richard could see a couple of others racing toward one of the buildings. The Glee were all dead or vanished, so he didn’t understand what was going on or what they were so concerned about.
Rita and a gaggle of others rushed in around him and started pulling up his shirt. Not knowing what they were doing, he tried to push their hands away, but they were as persistent as a swarm of wasps. He kept trying to pull his shirt back down as a different woman on the other side pulled it back up.
He tried to lightly slap Rita’s hands away. “What is wrong with you?”
She seized the tail of his shirt and shook it to show him. “It’s not what is wrong with me, it’s what is wrong with you.”
Richard looked down and saw that the side of his shirt was soaked with blood.
30
The healers who had gone off to one of the buildings emerged and raced back with a variety of supplies.
Rita lifted his elbows. “Hold your arms up. Your wound has torn open from your effort at fighting and it’s bigger now than before. We will need to stitch this up.”
Richard was wishing he had Shale around to heal the wound with her gift. But then he remembered that Shale had become part of the coven, even if it was against her will.
Rita grumbled, reprimanding herself for not sewing the wound better before. She pushed the sides apart to open the wound so she could inspect it. It made Richard groan with pain. Another woman handed her a bit of poultice as another handed her a needle and thread. She immediately swiped some of the yellowish concoction into the wound and then set to work stitching it together.
Richard winced and held his breath each time she pushed the needle through his skin and drew the sides of the wound together. With each stitch she pulled the thread tight with a little tug. Each time she paused before the next stitch he caught his breath. When she was satisfied, she bent and bit the thread to break it and then tied off the ends.
“I hope that holds it,” she muttered.
Another of the healers leaned in for a look. “It looks like it should. You did strong stitches. They should be more than enough to hold it tight.”
“As long as he doesn’t get into another battle right away,” Rita said.
One of the others scooped another big glob of a different ointment of some kind out of a bowl. Richard could smell aum. Another woman dabbed the bloody wound over his ribs with a rag to clean it up. Richard winced and recoiled. It wasn’t the stitching that hurt so much as the wound itself.
“Stay still,” Rita groused. “Hold your arms up out of the way.”
She obviously didn’t appreciate that he had ruined her previous work. The woman with the ointment slapped a handful of it against the wound. As soon as she did, another pressed a folded cloth over it. As she held the cloth in place, Rita took a roll of binding material from one of the others and started wrapping it tightly around him. He grunted from the pain of how tight it was, but at least the aum was already beginning to numb the ache of the wound.
“I know that you aren’t going to take our advice to rest for a few more days,” Rita said, “so I had to put in extra stitches and it was necessary to make the binding tight. I don’t want the wound opening up when you are riding horseback. I hope you don’t need to get in another battle with those monsters for a little while at least.”
Seeing that it was important, Vika grabbed the roll from Rita. “Here, let me help. I can make it tighter.”
Vika was not nearly as gentle as Rita had been. She made the wrapping so tight that Richard feared to exhale lest she cinch it down when he did and then he wouldn’t be able to breathe in again.