Chapter thirteen
Concerning a distortion of realitySeg leaped alongside, bow thrust back over his shoulder, sword in fist. We burst past Fregeff, who was looping up his bronze chain around the little shoulder-perching reptile. His bronze flail clashed.
Shoulder to shoulder, Seg and I drove forward into the flailing forest of lashing stems. The plate-like mangling flower heads swung with tremendous force. The stink of disturbed mud filled our nostrils, till we gagged.
With ferocious slashes, we cut and hacked at the stems as they swooped near. They were sinewy, not easy to hack through, and from the gashes opened by our swords a thick and slimy brown ooze dribbled.
The screams of the terrified people racketed on never-endingly. Through the whirlwind of stems and the looping darting rock
