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“What about splitting into multiple selves?” I get a clear shot and down one of the vultures. “That’s something they could try to speed things up.”
She also shoots down a bird. “That technique is taboo in Escapist society. I’ve learned how to do it, but I’m not typical.”
A kettle of vultures breaks through the wall of the Escapists, and Asha and I focus on shooting them down.
When we’re done, I turn my attention to the battle being waged in the distance.
The Escapists’ sub-squadron smashes into the warthog/mole rat cavalry, pulverizing mount and rider alike. The battle with the tardigrades is also going well for our cannon fodder troops—that is, until the arrival of nail-swordsmen, humanoid creatures with claws as long and sharp as my katana.
Two of these newcomers rend Joygasm Troglodyte and Tarzan apart before either can so much as throw a punch.
With a sonic boom, Zorro’s whip wraps around the neck of one of the nail-swordsmen. Then Zorro beheads the thing with his sword before slashing his signature Z on the defeated foe’s chest. But in the process, he turns his back on one of the surviving tardigrades—and is instantly gouged by eight of the monster’s claws.
Two vultures careen at my sister’s husband. She and I move in sync, releasing arrows at the same time.
Two dead vultures spiral down, leaving streaks of goopy blood in their wake.
Kojo is safe for now.
Meanwhile, nearby, Zeus smites the tardigrade with a bolt of lightning not unlike the ones the Escapists are shooting at the birds in the sky.
A nail-swordsman hurls Dream Chester at Zeus, giving another one of his kind a chance to chop both Chester and Zeus into kebabs.
Moving with vampire speed, Dracula dashes for the nail-swordsman and rips the monster’s throat out with his fangs. He then tears the claws from his victim’s hands and hurls them at a tardigrade nearby as if they were blades.
A thin nail-swordsman leaps into the air, beheading Dracula mid-flight—which is when Dream Itzel hurls one of her lightning ball projectiles at him, leaving behind nothing but ashes.
“Bailey’s constructs kick ass,” Ariel exclaims.
“You’re just saying that because that version of you is the best of the bunch,” Rowan says with a hint of jealousy. The construct version of her is already dead, though I have no idea how or who took her out.
And indeed, Dream Ariel moves with uber speed, slashing off mandibles and tentacles from every creature that comes her way.
Our attention must be a jinx. Dream Ariel miscalculates a leap at a nail-swordsman and gets disabled.
Itzel avenges Ariel with a lightning ball, but is then beheaded herself.
“Dream me is also doing well,” Felix says. “Much better than the dream constructs the Escapists created.”
Both statements are true. His robot suit is covered in subcreature goo as Dream Felix rips other creatures into pieces. In contrast, the Escapists’ creations are having their asses handed to them. Most are just copies of the Escapists themselves, but without dreamwalker powers. They’re basically engaged in fisticuffs. However, they’re still not as bad as their creatures from myths; those are almost comical. Case in point, the unicorn with humanoid arms—a being that a lot of them manifested. Its modus operandi is to try to tickle enemies to death, with predictable results.
Meanwhile, another vampire I made—Edith—rains havoc on the enemy forces, making me wish I’d manifested more vampire-based dream constructs. But it’s too late now. I can’t use my powers—especially not when condors and vultures keep swooping in, trying to kill Kojo. Two pairs of them do this now, and my sister and I are joined by Felix and Ariel as we down the monsters, then preemptively kill a few nearby vultures as well.
Spiral worms, ants, and anglers join the cannon fodder battle. Soon, the zombies are all dead—or whatever the appropriate term is—and all the Escapists are too busy with their own fighting to make more.
The Escapists in the sky are being herded back toward Phobetor, while the ones attacking the cavalry are doing a bit better. They’ve defeated about half their targets and are battling the rest.
It’s getting harder to defend Kojo from this distance.
At least for me. Ariel looses an arrow at a condor who’s flying at the fake me—and she’s farther from us than Kojo is. The arrow hits the creature’s heart, slaying it instantly.
“Anyone who can fly should boost our air support!” Ariel yells.
“Smart,” my sister says. “I should’ve given that command.”
I tell her not to beat herself up; after all, Ariel is former military and my sister was almost as sheltered as the Escapists.
On Ariel’s command, some of the superheroes and gods from the dream construct troops launch into the sky, as do some of the dreamers that Maxwell recruited from the Otherlands.
I was right. He’s gotten to know some powerful people.
With the superheroes and gods away, the battle gets tougher for our cannon fodder.
