Dreamwalker's Bride - Chapter 435

Chapter 435: Miniature terrors
Ford braced himself.

Ben and Webster took point, as Ben was the only one with actual military training. The women moved further away from the dream, though Ford would have preferred they hide under the bed as Denholm usually did during moments like these.

Armed with Ben’s secondary dagger, which the prince had generously loaned to him, Ford had very little to offer in the way of combat skill or experience.

Still, over the past few days, he was being subject to a trial by fire.

And survived! So far.

He was thankful for the strong survival instinct he possessed, hoping it would see him through to the end of this.

It was completely unclear to him what events had precipitated this sudden violent blowback from the Emperor, but also not his place to wonder about it right now.

His place was to protect the women. Mia, particularly, though. Everyone would protect the princess, Anaisa seemed largely capable of fending for herself, but something strange in his heart happened when he thought of Mia being badly hurt.

Had Grandpa warned him that love hurt?

Probably, somewhere in there. There had been too many lessons to remember them all, and Grandpa seemed to know most everything.

At least, compared to an unschooled orphan raised in the mines.

The sound of a ‘pop’ immediately preceded a flood of purplish darkness flowing out of the dream.

Ford tensed, uncertain if the lack of light was what was to be fought, or merely a hiding place for something worse.

It spread like an eerie fog across the bedspread, matte and nearly opaque. Bestial growls emanated from it, and Ford spied snapping jaws.

Ben was the first to react, diving into the fray as shining fangs flashed from the violet miasma.

Webster was quick to follow, using his four front legs as swords to cut down anything within his ample reach.

Grandpa stood slightly behind, clearly needing to concentrate on precisely controlling Webster’s movements. Consequently, he did not have a lot of agility of his own.

Ford moved closer to defend the older man from being targeted. By pure size and number of limbs, Webster was their best counter to anything the dreams dished out.

To have Grandpa disabled would be to lose their most valuable fighter.

“Ahhh,” Grandpa smiled, and Ford glanced at him.

“Some new friends for you?” The younger man questioned.

“It seems so,” The patriarch responded.

Suddenly, the fog roiled and screeched, ripples cascading across its surface. Through it, flashes of teeth and metal and glistening ice were accompanied by the clangor of battle.

The fog flattened from its great height, seeming to try to press down upon the occupants within it.

“On your left! Danger is moving!” Mia called out, and Ford spun just as icy claws sprung at him from the mist.

Leaping back, he brought up the blade to block, and was struck down. Cold blasted through him, but he scrambled back to his feet as the monster emerged.

A product of nightmares untold, it had tentacles that ended in claws, with icicles protruding like spikes from its gelatinous body. Disgusted, Ford sliced at the nearest tentacle with his dagger, only to be struck back again.

It was headed for Grandpa.

“NO!” Ford screamed, just as Webster leapt out from the mist, landing just behind the creature with a screech of fury.

Momentarily distracted, the new monster turned and blasted icy wind from a circular maw. Webster rose onto his backmost legs, striking out with his sharp claws and severing two of the fluttering tentacles.

Ford knew he would be no aid whatsoever in the horrifying display, so he turned back towards the mist in case anything more should emerge. The horrible infighting seemed to continue within, with smaller creatures scrambling out from the fray.

The man stomped on some furry little fanged creatures the size of his hand, finding that easier than bending down with his weapon.

It also kept his face further from them. They could jump!

“Don’t let them bite you!” Martin shouted. “I saw some of those before, they could take down a horse with a nibble!”

Ford nodded, glancing over where Martin was stationed by the stairs. The rock-mover was all but useless closer to the center of the bed, so his primary role was to remain near the wall and try to manipulate the obsidian stones to keep any more creatures from escaping out into the world to kill or terrorize more people.

When something came too close, stone would shoot out from the wall or be dislodged from somewhere up above to brutally crush the incoming danger.

As such, the scene around Martin was particularly gruesome.

The bedspread, though the wights had cleaned it again not long before, was sopping with blood and other fluids that Ford didn’t want to think too long about.

“Focus,” He told himself. He needn’t keep track of everyone. Looking away might result in his doom.

Or someone else’s.

After all, he stood between the creatures and the women. If he let something by…

“Gah!” One of the furry things scrambled up his boot to where his pant leg was torn away. He shook it and slashed down with the dagger just as the thing was about to sink its little fangs into his knee.

The dagger was sharp and sliced the creature deep. Ford retreated as it was joined by friends, and the next several minutes were a frenzy of cutting and stomping as he tried to single handedly fend off the horde of fanged rodents.

Like fluffy diseased rats.

He would almost rather fight one large monster than all these little ones; it felt a bit humbling to stand on a pile of slaughtered little ones rather than have an impressive accomplishment to point to. Although, staying alive in the midst of all this was impressive on its own.

Slipping into an unfamiliar zone of an extended series of nearly-fatal mini-combats, Ford almost missed Trace’s scream.