Luther knew this, and so he stepped in an arc from the outcrop he had been stood behind, and his blade sang through the wave of reptiles wherever they touched its razor sharp edge. He inhaled deeply through his nostrils as he found his centre of gravity, then prepared to spin once more.
A skull-splitting scream cut through the air and drove him to slap his hands over his ears.
Fucking mandrake bombs! What idiot would use them on…
…is that a merchant’s wagon? There’s that damned woman, throwing the damned roots.
He charged to intercept them, waiving and shouting as he sliced a path through the sharp toothed reptiles which bounded towards him on their powerful hind legs. “Hey! Don’t throw that thing! It drives them crazy! You’ll drive them berserk! Stop!”
The woman hitched her arm back, then paused mid-throw with a puzzled expression on her face. She blinked, turned her head towards Luther and squinted through the haze of dust being kicked up around the rumbling wagon.
“Stop! Don’t throw it, it’ll make them go mad!” Luther shouted above the yipping creatures and the roar of hooves and wagon wheels. The woman nodded, and put the mandrake root back in its sack. Luther took a deep breath, and crouched into a turn from which he launched his body into a deadly whirlwind spin which sliced through flesh and bone as if they were butter. As the reptiles backed off, he charged onwards towards the wagon, and leapt onto one of the running horses as it pounded by.
“Let’s get out of here!” he shouted.
Neither the woman nor her husband objected.