The Night's Curse #3 (Waverly Stump and The 7 Realms)

Chapter 6

Then, a full blown battle began.

Waverly lowered her shield in time to see Judson fly off, leaving the army behind. The ogres attacked first, smashing as many soldiers as they could, especially the ones on horses. Waverly saw Chedor jump off his own horse just before an ogre's massive feet came stamping down on the animal. Swords clanked here and there, but the ogres had the upper hand.

"Aim for their feet." Someone yelled.

Waverly joined the team that sprang forth. She hacked off the flesh on the ogre's legs, but it was like chopping down a tree with a bread knife. The creatures howled in pain, yet it did nothing to stop them. One reached down and swiped its arm, picking up an armful of soldiers, Regent included.

"No!" Waverly gasped.

She released Calaire and lassoed the ogre's hand. With incredible strength, she pulled the creature's grip loose, and her mates came flying down. Their feet gracefully touched the ground like cats. The weight of the whip doubled and pushed the ogre onto it's back, allowing for a gathering of furious Tyros to poke its eyes out.

Waverly dropped her bronze sword and shield and went over to check on injured, immobile soldiers. She dragged many into the forest to shield them from any more danger. Despite the broken border, the dark army did not dare cross into Alpgeton.

She suddenly realized that the bridge of Bridge was gone.

It was supposed to be here. She thought.

She fought hard, occasionally dragging injured soldiers to hide under trees. As she placed a young Elfin under one, the startled face of a Derew poked out of its trunk.

Waverly looked into her soft green eyes.

"Help them!" She pleaded, panting. "All of them, please."

The Derew nodded and gave a very low sound from her throat. All around the forest, tree spirits began to materialize in great numbers. Each one gently took hold of an injured soldier and disappeared with them.

Waverly thanked them and ran back into the field. Her side had evidently gained the upper hand. The ogres were dead – disintegrated to brown ash. The other smaller creatures had been hacked to pieces, and many others did not stand a chance against the Tyros, who fought like true warriors. Right there, Waverly developed total respect for them.

Elves could do battle no matter their age. To them, it was more of an affair of honor and patriotism. It did not matter if an Elf was nine, or eight. All that mattered was skill and willingness .

She stabbed through a number of Rocs – large cats that looked much like tigers, but evidently bigger and more violent. The Stigmas and Serkets were Grace's specialty. Being twice the size of Elves her own age, she found it easy to smash the overgrown bees and scorpions to mud under her boots.

Regent was everywhere, using a variety of strange weapons he had crafted to battle his opponents. Ceylon threw knives, daggers, stones, and even arrows, and whatever he threw never missed.

Phyllis was the better swordswoman. She could take down three creatures at once, fighting one for a second before returning to the next, then the other, and then back to the first. She was quick as wind and light as feather.

Havilah, however, was a terrific climber. Before her opponent could blink she was already ontop of it, stabbing right through its skull; cutting off its head, or an arm.

Waverly saw her climb atop a She-Monster. Those beings, she learned, were the hardest to kill as they were ten times more violent than every other.

Havilah fought to stay ontop with her legs planted firmly on either side of the She-Monster's chest, but the latter was shaking vigorously and clawing at her like a Hag. She drew her sword and took aim.