Belly of the Beast by Warren Thomas (story books for 5 year olds txt) 📕

            A quick glance showed the Tyrian was exultant. Her eyes shone with green fire, a tiny smile on her blood-splattered face. Sergeant Gareth seemed just as happy in his slaughter.

            I’ll never make a soldier, Tane thought, and cut down an old man threatening him with a measly pair of rocks.

            A moment later Joelle, then Quinn joined the first rank, soon followed by Armin. Tane felt a moment of panic. Fox Company was being decimated at an alarming rate. There were only two ranks behind his squad. First platoon to their left was down to two ranks in places.

            A zombie thrust a rusty dagger into Tane’s left leg just above the knee. Three more dropped their crude weapons and clawed at his arms and clothes. Horrified, Tane realized they wanted to capture him, take him alive. The vision of himself magically enslaved, a zombie threatening his friends, flashed before his mind’s eye.

            Howling with terror and pain, Tane smashed one zombie’s skull and hacked at the others as he fell back. The Lelt behind Tane whooped in battle joy and slipped past to join in the fray, cutting off Tane’s would-be captors. Tane limped back ten paces and stopped to remove the dagger. It hurt worse coming out than going in. Bright red blood gushed out of the gaping wound, making his head spin and his gut lurch.

            Suddenly the spot where Joelle had slapped him prior to the battle became searing hot. While he tugged frantically at his mail to get at his burning chest, it quickly moved down toward the wound. Within a dozen heartbeats it found the wound and the smell of scorched flesh rose up to Tane’s nose even as white hot pain consumed the wound. It lasted only a few heartbeats, but left him sprawled on the cold ground, panting and shaking in pain.

            As the arcane heat dissipated, Tane wiped the tears away and examined his leg. The blood flow was stopped, and the wound had the look of a days old injury. It still throbbed mightily, but his leg felt stronger. A quick test showed it able to support his weight reasonably well.

            Grimly looking back at the raging battle, he thought, Damn, now I’ll have to go back in.

            Steeling his resolve, Tane hurried back to the battle lines. He found 3rd Platoon down to one and two ranks in places, and the rest of the company just as decimated. If anything, there looked to be even more zombies pressing in on them than before.

Chapter 32

            Huffing and puffing, Nizar reached the top of the incline. His command had pushed the Kestsaxians back as much as fifty paces in places. Even so, this was the closest to actual fighting he had ever dared. But if Tane was to be captured, then a free-thinking person would have to lead the effort. Zombies couldn’t be trusted to do it right. The idiots would as likely kill the man as capture him.

            As if to prove him correct, just as Nizar spotted Tane fighting in the first rank, and just twenty paces away, a zombie thrusts a rusty dagger into the man’s leg. The zombie lost hold of his dagger, but had another and thrust for Tane’s throat.

            Nizar’s heart froze. To have come so close!

            To Nizar’s relief, Tane proved fast enough to parry the death blow, and smash the offender’s skull as well. Nizar scowled, for he wanted to torture and sacrifice the stupid zombie. But as Tane fell back, limping with the dagger imbedded in his leg, Nizar felt a wave of euphoria wash over him.

            “The swordsmith is wounded and helpless!” he cried to the heavens. “My God, our victory is assured!”

            With barked orders, Nizar deployed his most heavily armed and armored soldiers to smash through the weakest spot of Kestsaxian lines. Even as he issued his orders, Nizar watched as Tane writhed on the ground just thirty paces away. Tane’s activities seemed to indicate a chest wound, though he wore a mail vest and Nizar couldn’t see any sign of injury.

            Frowning, Nizar reached out with God-given senses and felt the magic within Tane. But it wasn’t his own magical ability, but a spell placed upon him. At first Nizar thought it the source of Tane’s threat to Dakar, then realized it was a healing spell.

            “Dakar damn you, swordsmith!” Nizar cried. “Hurry! Attack! Attack! The swordsmith is being magically healed!”

            Nizar could see all his efforts going for naught. The High Priest would surely blame him for the failure to kill or capture Tane. He could very well be the High Priest’s next human sacrifice. The thought sent him rushing the Kestsaxian lines even as Tane began testing the strength of his leg.

            Suddenly, Nizar found himself facing a red-headed woman in Vikon armor. She was chanting a spell over and over even as she fought, her magic lending extra force to her blows. Dead and dying littered the crimson earth before her, piled waist high in places. Nizar saw that he’d have to kill her to get to Tane.

            “Joelle!” another Vikon called, pointing at Nizar. “Beware! A priest!”

            Nizar cursed and ducked when a bright, silvery bow appeared in her left hand, and in a flash an arrow flew towards him. He hadn’t realized a witch could wield magic so fast. His hand fell on something hard, fingers instinctively wrapping themselves around it.

            A spear.

            Gory with blood, it was the one weapon Nizar could wield faster even than the witch could her magic. So ducking behind a zombie, whose chest instantly exploded when a silvery arrow struck him, Nizar made to attack from a different angle.

            As planned, the witch was immediately engaged with his zombies. As the zombies pressed close, she sent the bow away and used her sword. She had little time to search him out, thus giving Nizar the opening to attack.

            Witches were another