Chancellor Yi looked with agony into the flames, absently stroking the long line of his mount’s mane from the head down to the withers to settle it as much as himself. His eyes shifted slightly to the right to Lord Serant and he hung his head in shame. He had been so stupid. He should have been more vigilant and seen what was coming; then he could have prevented the barbaric scene he had witnessed only moments ago, a scene he knew took place beyond his obscured view.
The sound of a multitude of horses thundering into the square drowned out all other sounds. Screams erupted from the black-hearted warriors. The clash of steel and the crunch of bone and armor beneath hooves were heard once more. The city garrison, in full force, had finally arrived. Chancellor Yi raised his head slightly higher. He had hope again.
Though engulfed horrifically in the orange-red flames, a dark warrior came bursting into their circle. Despite the fire surrounding him, he continued his forward lunge; his sword lashed out over and over, wildly, without direction. Lord Serant swiftly threw a dagger into him, which landed in the man’s chest with a hefty thud. Disappearing within the flames, the man collapsed to the ground and died, shuddering from one last spasm before he went. The putrid scent of burning flesh spread quickly and soon permeated the air about those waiting for a chance at freedom or maybe even death.
In desperation the dark warriors were attempting anything to attain their goal. Their escape route was cut off, so now only death remained. They were not afraid to die. They were dying for a cause, their cause. They were the chosen; they must breach the flames. Using the dead and the dying as shields, they attempted to break through the flames with the capacity to fight. Several made it through, only to be hacked down immediately by Lord Serant’s determined blade. Not discouraged by failure, in surges they poured into the flames, still bearing the dead and the wounded before them.
Chancellor Yi spurred his horse forward into one such group as they broke through. He knocked two of them back into the flames, and the remainder fell to the ground. Lord Serant cut down upon those remaining as they stood. His sword was lightning, deadly quick and accurate.
Outside the wall, the dark warriors were making another offensive. They clustered around their leader as the dark lord issued his commands, ordering them to continue their assault through the flames; and in the name of their lord, the dark warriors strove to do so. They would breach the flames and kill those inside at all cost, even their lives. They surged towards the wall.
Palace and city garrison soldiers alike poured into the square in unbroken lines of bowmen, pikemen, swordsmen and horsemen. The bowmen quickly pinpointed the locations of the enemy bowmen and returned their volleys with equal fervor, soon outnumbering them. Mounted soldiers followed by pikemen swept through the enemy ranks, forcing their retreat. The swordsmen had the role of clean-up, easily dispatching the wounded and the fallen.
The spirit of the Great-Father and Mother-Earth weakened as their hosts’ willpower and stamina drained. Father Francis and Sister Midori-shi could maintain the wall no longer; their will was spent. The flames sputtered then slowly dissipated. Soldiers of the kingdom now outnumbered the ranks of the attackers. The tide was being turned and soon the last of the dark warriors would be eradicated.
With the fall of the wall, a flicker of hope swept over the dark masses. The dark lord entreated them, and in a last desperate attempt, they plunged toward the central group. The kingdom soldiers watched in horror; they had not expected the mystical wall of flames to fall away. They could not reach the others soon enough. The dark warriors were only a few feet from their goal.
Lord Serant spurred his mount forward and struck down with full force into the first group. His blow cleanly took off the head of his victim. As he followed through with his swing, he hit a second man in the ribs and penetrated his chest. Both men fell, one dead immediately, the other waiting to die. Lord Serant and the dark lord locked eyes for an instant. Each saw the power in the other’s eyes. He led his charge directly toward the opposing lord, nullifying the presence of the enemy around him with his blade as he reached toward his goal. Four more fell in his wake.
Sister Catrin unsheathed her ceremonial dagger. She looked to Midori and Jasmine, who clearly could not defend themselves. She quickly scanned the field. Only a few of the dark warriors remained as a threat, but aid would not come soon enough. The garrison soldiers needed to push through the few remaining ranks in order to reach them. She waited calmly for their approach, controlling her breathing, and then lunged at her would-be assailants.
Lord Serant swung and met cold, hard steel. Still mounted, he kicked out first left and then right to knock back the dark warriors that attempted to strike from the side. His antagonist quickly thrust again with an extremely adept maneuver that took Lord Serant’s mount full in the side. His horse crumpled to the ground. Lord Serant half jumped and half fell from the horse. He rolled and instantly poised his sword for a block.
Sister Catrin’s dagger found its mark deep in the heart of the first warrior. In answer, the second rammed his blade deep into her chest. A pained expression of combined horror and disbelief overtook her normally calm features. She turned and looked into the attacker’s eyes. A teardrop trailed down her cheek as the strength of her life waned with every droplet of her blood that spilled upon the dirt. With her dagger yet poised, she fell upon him; in a moment neither moved.
The dark lord lunged full upon Lord Serant. Their two weapons locked together, each testing the strength of the other. Lord Serant pushed upward with all his might. The dark lord fell back, giving Serant time to recover his stance. He parried right and then blocked left, hacking forward. The two locked blades again.
The mounted guard pressed forward and quickly put an end to the lives of the last few resisters who had clung around their lord and had sought to deliver a deathblow to Lord Serant. The clean-up task was left to the swordsmen again. It was their duty to insure that all enemy were dead. As they picked their way through the bodies, they were sure no one was left alive.
“Who are you?” yelled Lord Serant through gritted teeth.
“I am Lord Konstantin of the Bandit Kingdoms. I spit on your dead!”
“You do not deserve to die with honor!”
Silence began to fill the square. Now only one dark warrior, the dark lord, himself, persisted. The soldiers watched this final duel, unsure if they should aid Lord Serant. Switching his weapon briefly into one hand, Lord Serant waved them back with his free fist as they approached. Instead of interfering, a group of kingdom soldiers circled the two, so the dark lord had nowhere to flee. They patiently awaited Lord Serant’s signal that they should aid him, resolved to wait and watch until that time.
Lord Serant skillfully waved his blade. He struck repeatedly, but always he met the other’s defense. A heavy mask of perspiration covered his face and dripped from forehead to chin. Fatigue set in, but determination drove him on. He would force the other to yield first. The dark lord sought to draw a second blade, a dagger, from his calf-high riding boot and throw it at Lord Serant, but Serant was quick to move and it missed him. The dagger struck one of the soldiers who watched. His eyes were wide and staring as he fell, his hands clutching the blade embedded in his chest.
Now Serant was enraged; he went wild with his sword, smashing down upon his enemy, driving him to his knees. Lord Serant cleft the blade from the dark lord’s hand in one clean blow. His face flushed with anger, he held his blade at the other’s throat.
Lord Serant held the blade pressed to the man’s throat for several seconds contemplating killing him outright. He concluded that perhaps they could bleed the dark lord of information before they sentenced him to death, and upon Lord Serant’s signal the kingdom soldiers swarmed.
Retrieving a tiny, finger-sized blade from a hidden spot in the small of his back, Lord Konstantin sought to kill himself but was denied the privilege. It took six men to hold him still while they bound his wrists and ankles, and he cursed vehemently until he was gagged.
“I am only the first! I am only the first!” he cried. “There are others! There are others! You will die! You will all die!”
Lord Serant looked to his beloved Calyin. She was safe, and he was content. His other companions were also safe; the danger was past. The priests of the city temple arrived, and he could see them tending to the wounded around the square. He walked over to his Calyin and knelt beside her in prayer. Calyin reached out her hand to him and he rose to his feet; together they went to check on the others.
All the Great Kingdom would doubly feel this time of mourning. Not only had the citizens lost their king, but also many a brave soldier and many innocent men, women and children. The heart of the kingdom had been invaded; honor and faith must be restored. As the setting of the sun was to begin a time of mourning, so would the rising of tomorrow’s sun begin a time of retribution. The cry for retaliation would be heard and answered by all. The kingdom would stand without heir, but it would not fall.
The thunder of many hooves despoiled the silence. Lord Konstantin lit a smile to his lips. His eyes filled with glee; he knew who came. The palace guards were quick to their mounts and stood ready. Bowmen took up positions aiming for the many entrances to the square, waiting. Swordsmen mustered behind the shieldbearers and pikemen regained their line-defensive formations, standing at the ready, marching forward under their captain’s orders. Lord Serant drew his sword from its scabbard sadly and waited for the next offensive.