“Sleep!” Xari cried at the encroaching masses, and instantly, a swath of them crumbled.
That spell Zen knew, a common one among wizards who followed the Twilight God, but it could only affect so many at once.
Dante, too, was hindered, for swinging his axe slowed him while running, so it remained on his back, his feet swift with the occasional pause to throw a bottle—usually one that exploded in a flash of green and made the creatures sizzle when it touched them.
Some of Xari’s people were firing bows or slashing out with other weapons to assist, but mostly, they ran. They knew they would share the same fate of the first who’d fallen if they didn’t.
“That spell better be worth it!” Khel cried at a still searching Morty, slashing again and again with his sword, but the beasts seemed to b
