The greenlings did not turn to follow it.
“Um,” said Breadlee. “I’m not sure which bit to stab.”
Fern’s temporary paralysis ended, and she began backing away from the lantern, toward the tavern. “Astryx!” she called again, a note of desperation entering her voice. “Where the hells are you?”
Her foot caught in her cloak, and she went down hard on her tail. The second greenling’s right arm creaked in her direction, twined through with roots. A profusion of green shoots bristled from half a wolf’s skull, sagging slowly down its humanoid chest. She squawked in horrified alarm, nearly dropping Breadlee as she scrambled to regain her feet to escape.
Even as she did, she heard the door behind her bang open. The shadow of Astryx passed on her left, Nigel’s silver length burning gold in the firelight.
The Oathmaiden whipped him around in a flat arc, crashing into the rib cage of the thing and smashing it sidelong. A pained grunt of effort escaped the elf’s lips as the greenling folded nearly in half and sank to the ground. Straight away it began to rise again in eerie defiance of a living beast’s physiology, thrust upward by the greenery that animated it.
Astryx didn’t wait for it to gain its feet, bringing the Elder Blade down in a vicious chop that cleaved it in two halves that at once fought to draw themselves back together. As she pulled her sword back from the mass of bone and ivy, questing tendrils of green tried to cling to the blade, but skittered quickly away as they touched the steel.
“Get inside!” commanded the elf. “Hurry!”
Fern stared at the door, still yawning open, where Finny stood, slack-jawed. Suddenly, Booth appeared from behind the old woman and yanked her out of view. His eyes met Fern’s for a fleeting instant, a question in his gaze.
When she didn’t move, he heaved the door closed with a rattling bang.
Glancing back at Astryx, Fern saw that the crumpled mess of the greenling was smoking as though Nigel were a hot brand held against it. It did not seem able to rise again as it seethed and bubbled around the Elder Blade.
Two more loomed from the shadows and the Blademistress took a solid step back. Their advance was slow, but relentless. With a flick, she severed a leg of the leftmost, hooking it away with a swipe so that the limb tumbled off into the darkness. A snarl of foliage immediately blossomed from its hip, trying to prevent its fall, but Astryx was already slipping her blade between the ribs of its fellow and ripping outward, hurling it away.
She cried out and clapped a hand to her side as Nigel’s point dipped and wavered.
“Steady on, my lady!” Nigel’s voice was thick with helpless distress.
The one-legged greenling lurched toward her again with ungainly, undulating steps, supported by ropes of vines that spidered along beneath it.
“Watch out!” hollered Breadlee. Three more of the creatures staggered around the side of the tavern and directly toward the elf.
Astryx threw a look behind her and put both hands on Nigel’s hilt to steady him, her eyes narrowing with cold resolve.
There are too many,thought Fern, wildly.She’s still too hurt. It takes too long to kill them.
“Shit,” she cried, glancing at the knife in her hand, then at the lantern she’d left behind.
Before she realized what she was doing, she was dashing to scoop the oil lantern up in her empty paw. Without even pausing for a terrified breath, Fern ran toward the group of greenlings and hurled it directly at the one in the middle.
Lantern-glass smashed against its bones and oil sheeted up in a vivid plume of flame that made her flinch back from the heat and light.
The greenling didn’t react in the slightest. They felt no pain, it was clear. But as the vines and plants animating it crisped and curled, it began to stutter, like a puppet whose master had forgotten to twitch the strings from one moment to the next.
Ignoring the burning greenling, Astryx hacked the newly re-grown limb from the creature at her back, taking its other leg with it, then turned to engage the others.
“We need more lanterns!” yelled Breadlee.
“There aren’t any,” said Fern. Then she caught sight of one of the torch poles, half again her height and jammed into the earth along the road.
Dodging around Astryx and skirting the grasping arms of the legless horror nearby, she seized the closest torch pole low on the shaft and heaved upward with all her might.
It didn’t budge an inch.
“Fuck!” Tears of frustration pricked her eyes.
“Ah, shit,” swore Breadlee. Then, in a tone of resigned exasperation, “Use me.”
“What?”
