Deathstalker 07 - Deathstalker Return

killing machines, to strike terror into all who saw them. And once they'd been dumped here, the hothouse killing jungles of Shandrakor had seen to it that only the most savage, most deadly individuals survived. Most of the bodies had great holes in them, some had been torn apart. A few were still burning steadily. Insects had come out of the jungle to swarm around the steaming carcasses and the great pools of blood. They had bulging bodies and great gauzy wings and vicious stingers. A hell of a lot of them burned up against the party's force shields before the bugs learned to steer well clear of the party. They didn't bother Saturday, though occasionally he would snap one out of midair and chew on it thoughtfully.
    The air was hot and heavy and full of the stench of death, and they were all sweating hard by the time they reached the edge of the clearing. Lewis stopped them there, and glared into the jungle. There was a fairly wide path of beaten earth leading off between the huge dark trees, disappearing into the jungle gloom after barely a dozen feet. It was all very quiet, very still, but Lewis could feel hostile presences all around, waiting for their prey to come to them. It was as though the whole jungle was holding its breath.
    Lewis hefted his sword and pointed his disrupter steadily ahead of him.
    "Once we start moving, we don't stop," he said quietly. "Kill anything that even looks at us. Once we've killed enough of them, and they realize: they can't take us down, they'll fall back and leave us alone."
    "Can I have that in writing?" said Brett.
    "Hush," said Rose. "Just stay close to me, Brett, and you'll be fine."
    "It's come to something when I actually find you reassuring," said Brett. "Oh, hell, let's do it."
    They plunged forwards into the jungle, leaving the light behind, and all hell descended on them from every direction at once. The stark glare of energy beams flashed in the gloom, blowing apart monstrous forms as they surged forwards from hiding. Meat vaporized, and blood flew on the air as arteries disintegrated. And then the guns fell silent, recharging, and it was hand-to-hand fighting. The party stopped; they had no choice, attacked from all sides at once. The four humans formed a square, with their force shields facing out. Saturday had already been swept away in the fierce fighting. The energy shields absorbed the impact of vicious blows, and their razor-sharp blurred edges sliced easily through claw and muscle and bone. Swords rose and fell, thrust and parried, jarred on bone and hacked through howling faces, but for every creature that fell there were always more to take their place. Guns recharged and fired again, blowing armored guts apart and exploding bony heads, and still the monsters pressed forward. Their savage cries and roars were maddeningly loud at close range.
    Huge forms towered overhead, while smaller creatures swarmed across the ground, snapping at the party's leather boots with vicious jaws. The only thing that kept the party from being immediately overwhelmed was the tightly-packed trees, which limited the number of monsters that could come at them at one time. Lewis stood his ground and hacked and slashed about him with cruel controlled strokes, not wasting a single movement. He kept his force shield moving, always between him and a flailing claw or a champing mouth. He killed everything that came at him, not flinching even when different colored ichors splashed across his face, lightly burning the skin. Jesamine guarded his back with short sword and dagger, pirouetting with deadly grace like the dancer she was, crying out constantly with rage and shock and revulsion.
    Rose Constantine, the Wild Rose of the Arena, sliced remorselessly about her, wielding her long sword with inhuman strength, sending the bodies of the dead flying back into the faces of the living. She was smiling widely, in her element at last, doing what she was born to do. Brett Random covered her back, hacking viciously about him, making up with dogged determination what he lacked in style, practicing for the first time the deadly skills he'd learned from Rose.
    Saturday roamed here and there, crashing through the trees, blood dripping thickly from his jaws and foreclaws and lashing spiked tail.
    The bodies of the dead piled up around the party, blocking the trail ahead and behind. And still the monsters pressed forward, hauling themselves over the bodies of the fallen to get at the hated invaders, and