The Sword Summoner: History Repeats

The very walls seemed to shake as twenty thousand voices roared guttural war cries aimed at the besieged city. Weapons clashed against shields, armour and the ground causing a steady beat among the harsh shouts.

Only days before had the existence of the huge army even been known to the city. In those few days a desperate struggle had ensued to fortify Onlasar. A deep ditch had been dug skirting the city wall and spikes had been placed within it to impale any foes who fell. Additional battle towers had been constructed taking the number from thirty to fifty. Too many of the defences had been left to fade in the peace.

Commander Nakai inspected his newly assembled army and suppressed a sigh. Around eight thousand men stood before him with what weapons and armour could be provided for them. Every guard in the city had been assigned as sergeants as they were at least trained to fight, even if it was not for a pitched battle like this.

The main bulk of the army was just regular citizens conscripted to defend their city. Every person able to lift a sword and pull a bowstring was enlisted to fight, regardless of age. All boys from the age of thirteen had been given a mass produced sword, a shield, a bow and some meagre armour. Men as old as seventy held their weapons in shaking hands. Women were given the option whether to fight. Most declined but many grabbed their armaments and hastened to their given position.

“So, this is how it all ends, eh Mike,” said one of Nakai’s generals and close friend, Robert Barker. Nakai placed a reassuring hand upon his shoulder before taking his place at the head of the gathering of soldiers.

“Everyone listen up,” roared Nakai. “Today we face a storm unlike any that we have faced in our, or our fathers’ lifetime. Much longer in fact but it is us and us alone who must face it, and face it we will! Our families hide in fear. They cry! Will we let harm befall them?”

A huge thunder of ‘No’s erupted and filled the city, drowning out the chaos of noise beyond the walls for the briefest of seconds. Thousands of warriors, peasants, nobles, merchants and soldiers alike were ordered to occupy the battle towers and archer boxes. All had bows aimed at the barbarians, arrows nocked. The remaining soldiers formed ranks in the streets below with weapons at the ready.

The barbarians stayed out of bow range though. They fully surrounded the city, cutting off all routes in and out. A large gap in their ranks suggested that more were expected. Forukks and men in foreign armour dotted the barbarian horde as well as several mountain beasts captured and trained for battle. Too few of the defenders were even trained to use the weapons they held. The savages below them were profound at the art of killing.

The citizens of Onlasar did have a few advantages. Every few soldiers had boom-balls strapped somewhere on their bodies to throw into the vast gathering of enemies beyond the walls. Each person had a quiver full of arrows and many boxes held refills if all were exhausted. They also had Commander Mike Nakai, leader of the defending forces and the greatest warrior in Onlasar.

Nakai stood in a battle-tower gazing out at the mass of foes that almost reached the horizon. He had a good tactical mind so he knew the options he had and the outcomes that they would bring. He knew that if the barbarians were smart then they would just stay out of bow range and starve the city. It could take months for the food to run out but it inevitably would. The defenders would die of starvation, turn on each other or try and fight the enemy in a last desperate struggle. All ways led to inevitable death.

Luckily, Nakai also knew a lot about the barbarians. They were impatient brutes who loved nothing better than a good fight. They would not limit their own casualties by waiting, where would the fun be in that? Instead they would throw themselves at the defenders in a savage rage that few could stand against.

He scanned the faces of the men around him. They ranged from terror to grim determination but they all had the haunted look that came from knowing that there was nowhere to run. Men never fought harder than when their backs were to the wall. Not that that helped moral at all.

Nakai remembered his first battle. He had been ambushed by barbarians while travelling with his father. Everything was a heightened blur at the time but he remembered coming to his senses afterward, soaked in blood with corpses all around him and a dying man at the end of his blade. He had been no older than Trey and his friends back then.

A movement at the front of the opposing army drew Nakai’s attention. A lone warrior stepped forwards causing a hush among the warriors behind him. He was a huge man built like a bear, arms like mighty tree trunks and a chest like a barrel. His head was bald and covered in tattoos designed to make his face look like an Abyss Sprite, an evil manifestation of a fallen Sprite. In one hand he held a monstrous club that would take a normal man all his strength to lift two handed, let alone to be able to swing it. Huge slabs of black iron served as his armour.

It was the barbarian leader, Serka. He took another few steps forwards so that he was within range of the defenders bows. Smiling savagely he bellowed out his message. “Are you ready for some fun?”

A single arrow shot out from the wall aimed for Serka’s throat. In a flick of his powerful wrist his club decimated the arrow. His laugh boomed out at the city, almost as loud and powerful as the entire army’s war chants earlier.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he roared as he turned back to his army. “Charge!”

A tidal wave of warriors rushed forwards screaming threats and challenges to the men above them. Arrows erupted from the walls like a giant ripple mowing down the front line of foes. More and more arrows rained down upon the barbarians but their berserker rage kept them running even after their bodies had been pierced by the projectiles.

“Focus your fire on the monsters! The Forukks cannot be allowed to live!” Nakai ordered at the top of his lungs.

From within the mountain range, Nakai noticed a fearsome sight. Catapults and trebuchets were being pulled into view of the city. Arrows would not reach them but the rocks that they fired could level the entire city. How had the savages achieved so much without being noticed?

A volley of five rocks descended towards Onlasar. A small portion of the wall in the north crumbled at the impact of one of the huge chunks of stone. Two battle towers fell, a building near the centre of the city collapsed and a crater appeared in the main road. Another few volleys like that and there would be no city left to defend.

“Fifth company, bolster the defences to the north! Keep them out of the city at all costs!” the commander shouted to Barker.

“On it, Sir!” Barker responded with a salute. “Men, move out. Double-time to the breech.”

Nakai contemplated their options. They could not leave the siege weapons intact or they would destroy the city within the day. No archer could get an arrow anywhere near them and the city’s own catapults would hit the mountains unless they got very lucky. A squad of men could not assault them as an army stood between them and all exits from the city were blocked.

More and more rocks fell from the skies reducing parts of the city to rubble. Barbarians fell like leaves from a tree in autumn but it made little difference. Various savages darted through the horde, sharp shooting any visible archers with their crude crossbows.

Flame exploded from the battle tower that neighboured Nakai’s own. As Nakai struggled to his feet his gaze followed a trail of smoke from the wrecked tower to the hands of a strange barbarian stood a few rows away from the front line.

“Great,” muttered Nakai. “They outnumber us, have siege weapons and a sorcerer.” No Nimula had been used openly for centuries after it was outlawed on pain of death by the first order of the Neotites when they had tried to seize control of Farava. Healers were still allowed to practise basic Nimula but even that knowledge was fading. Yet here was a man who could wield it and was helping to destroy the last great city in the land.

“What are we to do, sir?” asked a young woman, Nakai’s lieutenant, Suzy Fireblood.

Nakai had found her living on the streets back when he was only a sergeant. The first time he had seen her was when she was in the middle of a fight with a group of snobby nobles’ kids who had thought they could pick on her. She had made them all run off with their tails between their legs. After they had rounded a corner she collapsed from her injuries and near starvation.

Nakai had given her some of his food rations and offered her a job as a soldier in his regiment where she would receive food and shelter. She accepted and had risen through the ranks along with Nakai.

She looked more than a little worried. She was looking at the sorcerer too. He was easy to pick out because of his green beard and golden robes. Nakai’s mind was racing through ideas that could help but nothing took form into a plausible plan. He watched the men and women around him, knowing that their lives were in his hands.

A terrible explosion threw flames and shrapnel into the air in a large dome. To Nakai’s surprise it was in the enemy’s forces and not in his own. He watched closely and saw one of his sergeants, a violent, battle hungry man by the name of Logar, fill a rucksack with boomballs, soak it in oil, then with a mighty swing of his arm he threw it into the air.

As it arced back down towards the enemy he grabbed a crossbow with a flaming arrow from a man by his side and shot. The arrow flew true and hit the bag, igniting it and the fuses on the boom-balls. As it reached to within five yard of the ground it exploded, killing every man within a ten foot radius. Many more were slaughtered by the jagged metal shrapnel. This gave Nakai a brilliant idea. He turned to face Suzy Fireblood.

“Tell the catapult crew to put several boom-balls in a bag and soak it in oil. Have them launch it toward the enemy siege weapons.”

“Aye, sir,” replied the lieutenant as she rushed down the tower’s ladders.

We just need to live long enough for the enemy siege weapons to be destroyed and we might just stand a chance, thought Nakai. Even as that thought passed through his mind more rocks rained upon the city.

The barbarians had now reached the wall and were bringing ladders to the front. Despite the ladder crew being shot at by every archer, many still managed to raise their ladder to the wall. Men clambered up them like spiders. Within a minute the battlements were swarmed with ruffians.

A soldier ran up to one of the ladders that had risen last and attempted to push it off the wall before the warriors reached the top. As his hand grasped the wood, purple flames roared into existence, consuming the man’s whole body within seconds yet doing nothing to the wood. Nimula had been used to help defend the ladders. All that remained of the man was ash and the smell of burnt flesh. More warriors pulled themselves up and charged towards the city’s troops.

The defenders dropped their bows and drew their swords. Nakai did the same. He leapt from his tower onto the battlement above the main gate, cleaving a barbarian’s head in half as he landed. Blood spurted onto his face but he did not have the time to wipe it off. He ducked under a blow aimed at his head by a muscular man with a spiked mace and stabbed at his gut. Nakai’s blade protruded from the man’s back causing him to spasm briefly then fall to the floor. The commander had just begun to fight with a swordsman when all eyes on the battlefield and in the city were drawn to the mountains.

An explosion of monstrous proportion shook the mountain closest to the enemy siege weapons causing a landslide to swallow them and their crews. Every defender cheered at the change in fortunes. The enemy was far from defeated yet though.

The fighting continued more fiercely than ever. More and more ladders were raised as few defenders continued to shoot out at the seething mass of foes beneath them. Most were fighting for their lives, locked in a deadly melee to defend the battlements and repel the enemy.

The wall beneath Nakai’s feet started to shake slightly. He knew this feeling. The gates were opening. He kicked the barbarian he was currently fighting off the wall to fall to his doom and vaulted onto the stairs leading from the battlement.

The gate was free of men and the device that opened the gate was left untouched. The only other place where the gate could be opened was inside the castle. That meant that there was a traitor in the same place as the Lord, the women and the children.

Nakai had to warn them but first he needed to close the gate or at least get some soldiers to stop the barbarians flowing into the city. He could not leave to find anyone though or it would be too late to stop them as already barbarians were entering through the gate.

Just as it looked like he would have to choose to either stop the barbarians walking through the city’s front doors or warning the Lord of a traitor in the castle, his lieutenant tapped him on the shoulder. With her were ten men with grim faces.

“We’ll handle these guys while you go and do whatever it is that is causing you trouble,” she said with a smile.

“The whole barbarian army will be coming through here. You and ten men can’t do more than delay them for a few minutes at the most. Your odds of surviving are a million to one,” pointed out the concerned commander.

“When has that ever stopped me before?” answered the woman with a laugh. “More men will come as soon as news gets out. We won’t be alone for long.”

Nakai smiled back at her then sprinted off in the direction of the castle as fast as his feet would carry him.

Suzy Fireblood led her ten brave soldiers forwards as the barbarians charged towards them with murderous intent. With a sigh she slid her spear from her shoulder and in one fluent movement lunged at the warrior fronting the horde. The metal tip pierced through leather and flesh like butter and embedded itself in the man’s heart. Even before she withdrew it she broke another man’s nose with the metal plated end of the shaft.

The small squad forced its way forward through the vicious tide of savages until they reached the gates. A carpet of blood and bodies followed in their wake. They held their ground against the seemingly unstoppable army like a rock parting the waters of a raging river.

Suzy dodged and lunged seamlessly, her spear lashing out in wide arching slashes and viper like stabs that cleared a ring around her. While she defended with one half of the spear she killed with the other in a constant blur of motion.

A thin lanky barbarian with a weasel like face and greasy hair managed to stick one of his two swords into one of Suzy’s men while he parried a blow with his second. He was cut down by a slash through his throat. Another of the defenders fell when a crossbowman picked him off while staying safely out of the combat. A well aimed throwing dagger ended his threat but the damage had been done.

With two men dead they could no longer hold their ground. Slowly they were pushed back. Suzy made sure every step was paid for dearly in blood. Another of her men was killed then another. The barbarians started to seep around them into the city. Suzy was about to send some men to stop them when something caught her eye.

Walking through the gate was the enemy leader, Serka. He smiled and laughed jollily as he spotted the seven defenders almost halting his entire army. He walked forwards drawing every eye in Suzy’s squad. None of them dared to move even to stop the flow of warriors leaking into the city.

The wind seemed to become wild as the man got ever nearer to them. Suzy’s raven hair whipped across her face and covered her eyes. This blocked her eye contact with Serka and snapped her out of the trance like state she had been in.

Serka laughed louder when he saw Suzy regain her wits and ready her spear. Seeing their leader prepare to face the barbarian brought back feeling into her men and they too readied themselves to fight. The passing barbarians no longer meant anything to them.

Suzy met each one of her men’s eyes and each nodded to the unasked question. They charged at Serka, weapons raised, roaring a wordless battle cry. The other barbarian warriors paid them no heed as the group ran past them. Only Serka watched them, grinning maliciously as they approached.

A man went into a flanking position at either side of Serka, two stayed in front of him, two stayed back to be support and Suzy had leapt into the air to take him from above by using her spear to vault herself upward.

Before any of them even had the chance to attack, Serka lashed out at the two men facing him, crumpling their chests with the colossal club. The men at the side used this opportunity to lunge at him with their swords. The first hit amour and merely scraped off. The second found flesh. At the same time Suzy’s spear descended towards his head.

Holding his mighty club in one hand he swung at the man that had just stabbed, hitting him in the head, causing it to explode like a melon. In the same space of time he grabbed Suzy’s spear that was inches from his face with his other hand and threw her at a nearby wall. She impacted it with a sickening crack.

As Serka watched the woman hit the wall one of the support troops charged him. Just before the sword struck him Serka head butted the man square in the nose. Blood sprayed forth and the man dropped to the floor. Only two men remained now.

The soldier at Serka’s side dropped his sword and staggered backwards. “I surrender. Please just don’t hurt me,” he pleaded. Tears flooded from his eyes and his entire body shook with terror.

A gentle look filled the barbarian’s eyes. “I understand,” he said sympathetically.

“R-really?” stammered the man.

“Of course,” replied Serka calmly.

In one great movement Serka swung his club with all his strength into the pleading man’s groin. The man rose from the ground, screaming in such a high pitched tone that it made some of the surrounding warriors’ ears bleed. It did not affect Serka in the slightest. The last man turned and ran but was cut down by the barbarians that still poured past.

“Cowards,” muttered Serka. He was about to continue on into the city when he realised that the woman was back on her feet. Only just, he noted.

Suzy’s name stake flared up within her. She was not known as Fireblood for nothing. Anger coursed through her, giving her strength. She slowly pulled herself up from the floor and staggered to her feet. Her right arm was broken and she was severely bruised in many places and could barely stand. She did not care. She smiled over to Serka but he seemed to have lost interest.

“Surely there is someone in the Sprite damned city who is worthy of fighting me,” the barbarian grumbled. “Gritz, finish off our friend here while I try and find a good fight.” Serka turned and left.

Seemingly out of nowhere the green bearded sorcerer appeared. Other than his beard he was totally bald. His eyes had no pupils, just eternal white that seemed to draw any lookers into them. He sighed then held out his hand. The last thing Suzy saw was a blazing inferno flying towards her.

As Nakai sprinted through the city things did not look good. The enemy siege weapons had taken their toll and he could see combat taking place on every battlement. Things were only going to get worse. Any men that he passed he sent forward to the gate to help his lieutenant.

The familiar streets that he had known all of his life looked so different now. As the castle came into view despair hit the commander. He could see flames through some of the castle’s windows. It did not look like it had been hit by any projectiles and surely no barbarians could have gotten inside yet.

He increased his pace and hurried towards the mountain fortress. Confusion struck him when he saw the doors were still firmly shut. He bounded up the steps leading to the door and knew that they were locked. He knocked, shouting his name, rank and business and that he must be let in. No answer came.

“Damn it,” he muttered. He could get in by blowing the door down with boom-balls then he could stop the traitor and any other threats within the castle but then the stronghold would be left open to enemies, or he could keep the door shut and stop the barbarians getting in but let the castle fall by some internal threat. When he thought about it the answer seemed obvious.

The doors were reduced to a pile of splinters as he threw a boomball at them. A jagged hole, large enough for Nakai to easily clamber through had been smashed into the once sturdy wood. Inside the castle was deathly silent.

There were no guards in sight; nobody was in view, dead or alive. Nakai did not encounter anyone on his journey to the audience chamber where the Lord should be. He eased open the chamber’s door and cautiously entered.

A sigh of relief passed his lips. The Lord Baranox was sat on his throne just as he should be. His personal assistant, Miss Falati stood faithfully by his side.

“My Lord, where are all the guards and why do parts of the castle burn?” asked Nakai, doing all he could to keep his voice calm.

“The guards are down with the civilians. As for the fires, we had some small trouble. It is over now,” Baranox replied. “How goes the battle?”

“Not well. Parts of the city were destroyed by the siege weapons and the barbarians are slowly winning the fights for the battlements.” Nakai paused, thinking how to phrase his next few words. “They also enter by the main entrance to the city but the doors weren’t broken, nor were they opened from down there. They must have been opened by the device in the castle…which would mean there is a traitor among us.”

“Really?” said Lord Baranox in a strange tone. His eyes seemed to have a dull sheen to them.

“My Lord?” said Nakai in an uncertain voice.

A smile formed upon the Lord’s face, not a pleasant one, not even a mocking one, Nakai could not find words to describe it. Before Nakai had time to contemplate the strange behaviour he felt a sharp pain in his stomach. He looked down and saw a knife embedded into his gut, held by the lord that Nakai had served his entire life.

Lord Baranox removed the knife and let it clatter onto the ground. He sat back in his throne and had a sip of wine. “We were always going to lose this battle. If it wasn’t for me every last citizen of Onlasar would have been butchered. I made a deal with the barbarian, Serka, that if I opened the gates then he would let me and a few others live, that way the blood of Onlasar would live on even after the city was destroyed. Can’t you see my logic?”

Nakai spat on the lord’s shoes and began to get to his feet. He had had many worse wounds than a stab from a dagger. After fighting barbarians for a decade, a knife wound was nothing. He would still live and he could still fight. Lord Baranox seemed to show no fear that Nakai was not dying, rather he seemed amused.

Pain stormed through Nakai’s body. He collapsed to the floor. His veins felt like fire coursed through them. Burning needles stabbed at every inch of his skin and his limbs felt like lead. The traitor had used poison on the blade.

“Soon the world will be enveloped in a wave of darkness and all light will be extinguished. Better to hide light in a cloak of black rather than let it die. Don’t you agree with me, Commander?”

Nakai could not hear anything his traitorous lord was saying. The only thing in the world for him at the moment was pain. His mind felt like it was being forced from his body. A small voice in his head kept telling him that if he stopped resisting the pain would disappear. Nakai managed a bitter laugh. He had been close to death too many times to listen to that voice. This was an occasion where pain was better than the void.

Laughing seemed to give him a small measure of strength. His mind fought its way back into control. He was not about to live through several battles just to die from something he could not fight. Life was often cruel in that kind of way.

“If I’m going to die then I’m going to do it fighting,” growled Nakai. It was the hardest fight in his life just to stand. Every moment felt like his last but against the odds he managed to pull himself to his feet, leaning on his sword like a walking stick, face to face with his former lord.

Lord Baranox could not believe his eyes as he watched the commander struggle to his feet. The sheer willpower needed to accomplish that was phenomenal. Baranox rose from his throne and placed his hand on his sword’s pommel, unsure what to expect.

“How about a duel to settle this argument on the fate of the city,” Nakai managed, turning a cough into a cocky chuckle with difficulty.

Under normal circumstances, Baranox would never have accepted as Nakai far outmatched him, but with the commander barely able to stand, he figured he had a very good chance at victory. “A duel it is then.” His slender sword slid from its elegant sheath with slow purpose.

Both men’s swords clashed together. The weight of the blade seemed almost too much for Nakai. He parried a blow at the last second then lunged at his opponent’s chest. It was easily blocked and countered. He cursed as he narrowly dodged a blow aimed at his head. Sweat ran down his face, blurring his vision. His every movement felt slow as though he was trying to fight under water.

This is too easy, thought Baranox. The fool could only just defend himself let alone attack his opponent. This was not going to be a victory; it was going to be a domination. He aimed a blow at Nakai’s head that was sluggishly dodged, then he swung for his chest which was parried. Blow after blow struck Nakai’s blade until it escaped his grip and flew across the room.

The Commander collapsed to the floor, the strain of the fight had been too much for him. Baranox knew he had won. He leered down at the defeated man and placed the tip of his sword against his neck.

“How the mighty fall,” mocked Baranox.

Before he could register what happened next the former lord had Nakai’s boot in his groin. Using his last reserves of energy the commander jumped to his feet, punched Baranox in the nose then grabbed his sword arm, twisting it until it broke, taking his sword in the process.

Instinct took over. Nakai’s body reacted without conscious thought. Baranox was at his mercy yet his arms still swung the sword into his chest. He watched as the former lord’s body crumpled to the floor, blood pooling around him.Nakai himself dropped to the ground as the adrenaline began to drain away and the pain of the poison flooded his senses.

Miss Falati raced over to her Lord’s side with a cry, tears falling from her eyes. She dropped to her knees and embraced his body. “My Lord. Don’t die! Please don’t leave me,” she sobbed. Baranox was still breathing. He opened his eyes and grasped his assistant’s hand.

An idea struck Nakai. He pulled a small combat knife from a sheath on his arm and crawled over to the woman and Baranox. He roughly pushed her to the side then grabbed hold of the injured man, putting the knife blade against his throat. He heard the women take a sharp intake of air into her lungs.

“This man deserves the death penalty for the crimes he has committed against this great city. I might be willing to spare his life, providing you bring me the antidote to this damn poison.”

Miss Falati considered this for a moment. It looked like she might grab one of the swords and charge at him for hurting her Lord but she knew that Nakai would slit Baranox’s throat at a moment’s notice.

“Fine!” she snapped in defeat. “I will bring you the antidote.”

“If it’s not here in five minutes I will die but I’ll be taking this traitor with me. Do you understand?”

The women nodded her head and ran out of the chamber. Nakai felt like sleeping despite the immense pain he was in but he knew he had to wait a little while longer. Baranox’s unconscious body was still bleeding, causing the mosaic floor to become slippery.

Each minute seemed an eternity to the commander. Every breath was a trip through the Abyss. He knew he could only stay alive for another minute at max. He tightened his grip on the knife, pushing it deeper onto the traitor’s neck, drawing small beads of blood.

Just as Nakai prepared to deliver the deathblow, the door slammed open and hurrying feet clattered across the room. The assistant came into his view holding a vial of purple liquid. She handed it to him then stepped back.

“What have I got to lose,” he muttered to himself as he downed the substance. At first nothing changed. He had an aftertaste of wax but little else.

Pain unlike anything else he had ever felt rushed through his body causing the knife to grind deeper into Baranox’s throat. His assistant screamed at this. Slowly the pain ebbed away leaving only numbness in his limbs, a lack of strength and the pain he would expect from the fighting he had been doing. He dropped the knife onto the floor and rolled away from Baranox.

Miss Falati rushed to her lord’s side and checked his pulse. She sighed a breath of relief when she found it then began to lovingly clean his wounds.

“If we somehow survive this battle you will not be executed, merely exiled. You can go were you wish just never show your faces here again,” growled Nakai as he stood and limped towards his sword.

He could have laid down and slept where he was the way he felt but there was still an invading army that needed to be crushed. He left the traitors and made his way up to the supply room of the castle. There he grabbed some energy pills and some bandages. Within a few moments he was ready to re-enter the battle.

Serka smiled as he watched the Onlasarian defenders being slaughtered by his men. The battle was going well now that the gates had been opened. His fellow barbarians had managed to destroy any that stood against them on the walls. Those defenders that had not been slain were now retreating towards the castle in the vain hope that they could resist the enemy there. Baranox had sold them all out for his own protection. Civilization did not mean much in the face of death. Not that Baranox’s deal would save him. Serka hated cowards more than anything else in the world.

The barbarian leader was slightly vexed at the fact that he had found no worthy opponent. Not one person managed even ten seconds. He sighed. That was what he got for being the strongest, he thought to himself. Oh well, there is still plenty of killing to be had.

After continuing through the city, indiscriminately killing any that got in his way, he saw something that put a smile back on his face. He saw someone he recognised and who he knew would hopefully be a worthy opponent. It was the enemy commander, Mike Nakai. He looked slightly worse for wear but still had his fighting spirit.

A roar of joy bellowed from Serka’s lungs and a huge smile was fixed upon his face as he raced towards the commander. “This is gonna be good!”

“This is not good,” sighed Nakai as he watched the giant of a man charging towards him looking overjoyed. He pulled his blade from a barbarian’s gut then readied himself.

Nakai darted to the side as Serka swung down at him. The club cracked the cobbles where Nakai had just been stood. The barbarian kept swinging and all Nakai could do was dodge the attacks. Their fight took them to the centre of the city. Many warriors around them had stopped fighting to watch them both.

Serka delivered a blow that took the Commander off guard. Nakai only had time to raise his sword in a feeble attempt to block it. The impact took Nakai from his feet and sent him hurtling backwards. His body smashed through a wooden door then rolled across the ground for another few yards.

All air was knocked from his lungs. Several of his bones had broken and his whole body was badly bruised. He slowly opened his eyes and laughed bitterly. Ironic, his last fight would take place in the great stadium.

“Well, I’m not going to die by just staying down here and waiting,” he grunted as he stood, coughing blood as he straightened.

“Good!” bellowed Serka. “You’ve still got some fight in you. Time for some real fun, try and stay alive a few more minutes at least.”

The barbarian charged and Nakai leapt to the side, lunging with his unbroken arm at a joint in Serka’s armour. The blade struck its target drawing blood but this did not deter his foe in the slightest. If anything it encouraged him. One more hit and Nakai was dead. The commander knew it, as did Serka and all the warriors who had abandoned combat and gathered in the stadium’s tiers to watch this epic battle.

“If I’m going to die I swear I’m taking you with me!” shouted Nakai.

“And how do you plan to do that when you can barely keep on your feet,” answered Serka in a somewhat disappointed tone at not receiving a good fight.

The Commander inspected a nearby Onlasarian corpse, quickly kneeling to search the body. From its battle pack Nakai retrieved two unused boom-balls.

“So much for an honourable death in a sword fight like I hoped,” muttered Nakai as he lit the fuses and sprinted towards Serka.

Serka, realising his peril, readied himself to smash the Commander and his explosives to the other side of the stadium. When he was within range he swung. Nakai ducked the attack and continued.

Serka pulled his club back in and lunged, hitting Nakai square in the chest.

There was a sickening crunch. In the brief second that separated the crunch from the explosion the scene looked like this: Serka’s club was against the Commanders chest, all of his ribs broken, some puncturing organs. Nakai held a boom-ball in each hand and had smashed them into both sides of Serka’s head, breaking teeth and his jaw bone.

The ensuing explosion filled the whole stadium. Fire and smoke flew outwards at an alarming pace and the sound was deafening. Neither of the two men had chance to scream. As the smoke cleared the carnage became apparent.

Nothing was left of Serka except jagged shards of twisted black metal, fragments of splintered bone and a nasty looking stain on the floor and nearby walls. As for Nakai, his body was still mostly whole. It lay a few feet from the crater the explosion had left. Serka’s final attack had pushed him back even as the boomballs had erupted. All of his hair had been burned off and he was missing his left arm all the way to the shoulder. Cuts covered every inch of his skin and his armour was nothing but rags.

An Onlasarian soldier checked his body and rejoiced at a pulse. It was very faint but it was there all the same. He and three fellow warriors lifted him onto a large wooden board and carried him off towards the castle for aid. They had not travelled far when a strange voice halted them.

“Ah, so he killed that brute. He’s saved me a great task. Now that Serka is gone, I am leader of these savages.” It was the barbarian sorcerer. “For aiding me I’ll give you a quick painless death, Commander.”

The four warriors placed Nakai onto the ground and drew their swords. With a mere flick of his wrists the men began to unravel. Their screams were terrible to hear like some hellish nightmare. The wizard then turned his attention back to the near dead Nakai.

He raised his hands and began to chant. Blood sprayed across Nakai’s face but it was not his own. A spear was protruding from the spellweaver's chest. A battered and burnt looking Suzy Fireblood held its shaft.

“That’ll teach you to set me on fire, you Sprite dropping!” she snarled.

She motioned to some nearby warriors and together they took Nakai back to the castle. The battle would have to wait. He needed to live.

The three members of Avocado Dusk had fared well during the battle. They had stuck together and had killed a dozen barbarians between them. Now they were cornered by around twenty of the enemy and the trio’s blades were dull and blunted. Hope for the great band seemed lost.

The lead singer stepped forwards and shouted, “Roadies, attack!” At first the barbarians had laughed. Then, from seemingly nowhere, a pack of crazed looking young people assaulted their band’s foes with a bestial rage. Their weapons ranged from swords to overgrown fingernails. One roadie even carved a man’s head in with a spork.

The barbarians fled in terror at the pure ferocity of the attack. Avocado Dusk shared a quick high five then drank deeply from hip-flasks filled with alcohol.

“Cheers!”

“The battle is won, sir. All the invaders have retreated from the city or have been killed,” stated Suzy Fireblood from her chair. She was in the medical bay and was wrapped heavily in bandages.

Beside her was the disfigured body of Commander Nakai. Healers still fussed around him but he had finally regained consciousness. Nakai would have sat up in his hospital bed or done something but none of his body parts would move. It was even agony to breathe.

“How many do we have left?” he managed to ask.

Suzy hesitated a moment. “We have around four and a half thousand able bodied soldiers remaining. Civilian casualties were low, few died.”

“Good. Rally the warriors and tell them to prepare for battle,” Nakai ordered.

“But we won. The barbarians won’t be back for a long time.”

“I know. That was just a warm up battle that meant very little in the grand scheme of things. The real battle is what those kids from Pastrino are heading for and they’ll need all the help they can get.”

The young lieutenant seemed about to argue but managed to resist. Grudgingly she asked, “What are your orders, Commander?”