Chương 6: Chapter Six: Moira

SIX Taoya flew over Roan feet first. The boots the big man wore were armored and they shattered the skeleton guard instantly, sending it in scattered pieces as Taoya landed on his back. For a big man, he could move nimbly. He rolled into a backward somersault and sprung to his feet, fists held up in a defensive position. Hands slid under Roan's arms and dragged him back as energy started to build around Taoya again.

Roan was exhausted, the last spurt of energy having sapped him of what was left of his energy to fight. The spirit might be willing, but the flesh was torn and bleeding.

"Let Taoya do what he does best," a woman's voice whispered in his ear as he struggled to sit upright. He struggled to turn around to see who was aiding him, the hands dragging him back not relenting for a moment. He finally had to crane his neck back to get a glimpse of her. She was a broad woman dressed in emerald robes so dark they bordered on black. Short black hair was in a spiky mess, the hairstyle ruined by sweat and dirt while her eyes were a magnificent magenta.

She gave a pointed grin at him as she continued to haul him around like a sack of laundry.

"I'm Moira. You?"

"Roan." The word came out in a rasp as his dry throat rebelled against him. He lowered his head and looked back to see that a gap of ten yards now separated them from Taoya, the man refusing to move as he held the line. Piles of bones were filling up the corridor as he dismantled every foe.

"That's a pretty name. I think it's the name of a horse though." Moira laughed and it was a cackly sound as she pushed him against a wall and came around to stare at him. They were in between shelves of the dead and the short, broad shouldered woman stooped over him, hands dancing over his bandages as a frown started to form.

"Those bandages aren't doing shit for you. Probably infecting your wounds if I'm honest. Blood loss, early signs of shock, maybe a concussion," Moira murmured to herself as she tilted Roan's head back and leaned in close to stare at him eye-to-eye. Her touch was clinical, practical, and painful. His wounds ached when she pulled the sticky bandages away, clots of dried blood peeling at his skin as her frown deepened. She clucked her tongue and glanced to the side where the line was slowly moving forward.

"We don't have water or food. At least I don't think we do. That wasn't one of the options the rabbit offered. Which means if there's any chance of completing this level, we must be close to the saferoom. Your fighting is done for the day though. Harris! Delaney! Both of you go and help Taoya!" Moira ordered and two green robed fighters fought their way carefully through the crowd to get back to the end of the line. The duo carried long handled axes identical to the ones that Roan had.

"We'll carry you to the front with the other wounded, hold on," Moira said as she slid his arm over her shoulders and stood. The height difference made it awkward, but Roan's legs weren't cooperating well in helping him stand straight. The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. Moira proceeded to berate and cuss out anyone who stood in the way.

When there was a skeletal limb in the way she ordered those around her to kill the sleeping skeleton, two or even three people leaping into the grave to kill the skeleton before it could rise. Roan's vision began to grow dim as the pain in his body faded away. Cold creeped into his limbs as they continued to drag him forward until the press of bodies suddenly gave way. He tried to rouse himself, but the most he could do was lethargically blink as he tried to look around where they were.

"We're almost there. Just a bit longer," Moira promised. Roan grunted as he finally started to comprehend what was blocking their way. Where the last intersection had been a massive boulevard the size of a highway, this one was a monstrous cul-de-sac. A pair of metal doors were open on the far side of the entrance where the circle was deepest. Actual coffins were leaning against the walls, ten feet tall and six feet wide made of dark, varnished wood that glowed.

Candles had been replaced with torches that cast a smoky light around them. From the open doors a clean white light attempted to pierce the gloom of the room but hardly made it ten feet before diffusing into the murk. People had already made it into the cul-de-sac as two of the coffins were open, their occupants broken on the ground. Roan couldn't make out what they had been, but he could guess as the third coffin was opening and a giant amalgamation of bones stepped free of the coffin.

"Darren! What do we do?" one of the numerous people asked as Taoya's fellow sect member stared at the giant form slowly lurching toward them.

"What do we do? We kill it. I need offensive bloodlines and fresh bodies up front. Healers and defenders, we're going to move the wounded through the gates. Where's Taoya?"

"He's holding the line," Moira said and Darren cursed and wiped at his face with his free hand, a wave of fatigue crossing the man's features as he looked back at the lines. Roan stirred, standing upright as best he could as he looked at the slow lumbering giant. It looked to be made of animal bones. Something like an elephant's, but shaped into a gigantic man. Dried leather held it together, wrapped around its torso and upper arms.

A club that could have been a tree trunk dug a line in the dusty ground as it continued to close on them.

"I will engage the creature. We move it toward the right side of the chamber, wounded and defenders go left. Only wounded go through! Defenders hit it in the back when your job is done. If you go through and abandon us, I will see you skinned alive." Roan staggered away from Moira, pulling his arm free as he worked his way to the front of the crowd. Darren's words echoed in his mind as he stared up at the lumbering monster as it closed the distance." Just. Hold till wounded. Out." Even his thoughts were sluggish.

Roan stared at the eternal beast, the massive sockets that had a blue fire in them and not the so far regular green. He could do it. Even hurt and bleeding, weaving as he stood still, he would do his part until the wounded escaped.

"Grab that fool," Moira said and Roan looked for who she was pointing at. A muted sense of shock went through him as brawny arms slid around him, his feet leaving the ground as someone grunted with effort.

"He's heavier than he looks," the man said and Roan tried to deny it, to say he could still fight. But his white-knuckled grip on the axe handle finally failed him, the found weapons sliding free of his grip to hit the floor as his eyes closed and he surrendered to the pain and exhaustion.