Metal and blood. Heror smelled the latter. He tasted the former.

A hail of clubs hurtled toward the front line, knocking several siephalls off their feet. Heror focused, and he followed his enemy’s club with his eyes, then ducked it at the last second. He rolled between the attacker’s legs and swiped upward with a fearsome swing, slicing the bull’s spine.

The first elinji fell, and another charged Heror, cocking back his club to lead into a powerful backhand attack. The bull sent the club forward with otherworldly force, and Heror had to crumble and roll onto his back to avoid the blow. The bull quickly redirected the club into a vertical swing, and he sent it back down toward Heror. But Heror raised his aspidan at the last second, absorbing as much of the blow as he could.

He felt his stomach lurch beneath the force of the swing as a dent formed in his aspidan, and then he rolled to the side to avoid the next swing and rose to his feet. The bull was about to swing again as Heror stood, but just as it pulled back, a sword carved into its head, and Nihlukei dispatched it with quickness.

More Midans engaged. As Heror turned ahead again, he saw a seven-foot bull rumbling toward him, spear in hand. Heror managed to block the blade with his aspidan, but the force of the charge sent Heror skidding in the dirt. Heror fell to his knee, and saw the bull charging in again. But before the bull could land his next attack, Khoulane dove in between them.

The boy slashed at the bull’s legs with ferocious speed, and when the bull stumbled, Khoulane sliced his throat open, sending him falling onto his side. Two more Midans attacked. Khoulane quickly dispatched a djauul, then vaulted over a two-handed spear, using his agility to circle back and slash the spearman in the back.

Now Heror rose to his feet and came to Khoulane’s aid, fending off Midans as the boy did the same. Their backs to one another, they swung their weapons in near unison, tearing through a djauul spear unit. Soon, there was a slight break in the action, and an unknown siekarum approached from the right, followed by a wounded Plaezekei and several other siephalls.

“Fall left!!” the siekarum shouted. “Condense formation!!”

Heror glanced past the siekarum and saw that Tralics’ unit had been almost entirely wiped out. The Midans now dominated the right side of the pass, and started to close in on the Ardysan formation from all directions. The siekarum Tralics started to pass Heror when a spear embedded itself in his abdomen, sneaking past his armor. He fell to the dirt, and Heror and Khoulane were exposed at the front of the group. Another spear throttled toward them, but before it could hit, Plaezekei dove in front of it, taking the blade to the shoulder. He rolled and cried out in pain, but when Khoulane stepped forward to help him, Plaezekei shook his head feverishly.

“I’m dead already!” he shouted. “Go join the others!!”

Heror grabbed Khoulane’s arm and wrenched him away, pulling him to the left. They turned and ran across the pass – grass littered with bodies – toward what was left of the Ardysan formation, as the other siephalls behind them were cut down by flying spears.

What once had numbered 4,000 men was now no more than 400. The surviving Ardysans stood in an unorganized group, clustered near the forest edge on the left side of the pass. Near the front of the group, Heror saw Nihlukei. The siekarum’s breastplate was cracked on the right side, and his green robes were matted with red. Not far from Nihlukei, Heror saw Braylyn lying on the ground -- if not dead, then dying.

Heror and Khoulane filed in with the rest of the siephalls, and as they turned, another volley of spears came toward them. Heror deflected one with his aspidan, then turned to Nihlukei.

“So we’re just going to die here??” Heror managed.

“We just need to hold out until the reinforcements arrive!” Nihlukei exclaimed. “They should be here any minute!”

Heror glanced back down the incline and toward the entrance to the pass. The fog still lingered, but through gaps in the fog cover, he saw no Ardysan soldiers in the trees. Now his eyes went back to the battlefield. The Midans were closing in again. Heror watched as the siekcithung advanced on one bull, only to be speared and hoisted into the air.

“We should retreat into the forest while we still can!” one siephall cried out.

“What if they’re waiting for us there, too??”

Heror glanced at Nihlukei, silent as he watched the siekarum think. The siekarum swallowed a lump in his throat and took a deep breath.

“They’ll be here,” Nihlukei tried to convince himself. “They’ll be here…”

Now the Midans engaged the right side of the remaining Ardysan force. The Ardysans tried their best to defend against the attack, but their aspidans were no match for the mammoth weapons of the bull-people. Heror watched as the formation started to cave in on the other side. Siephalls shouted out for help, but on the left, more Midans approached, giving them no chance to reorganize. They were closing in on Heror’s position.

Nihlukei reacted first. As the first Midans attacked the left flank of the surviving force, Nihlukei swung his sword with might, cutting the first bull’s arm off at the elbow. He then stabbed the bull in the torso and wrenched the sword free, using that momentum to swipe another bull-person as he approached. A third bull tried to catch him off-guard with a dominating downward swing, but Nihlukei absorbed the blow with his blade and his aspidan crossed together, showing off his strength. He then slid free from the weapon lock and slashed the bull twice with ferocious quickness.

Heror wasn’t as efficient, but he held the line. One bull came in and swept at his feet with a menacing club swing, but Heror leapt above the weapon just in time. He regained his footing and raised his aspidan just in time to meet the bull’s second attack. Heror swiped at the club with his aspidan just as it reached him, barely avoiding direct contact. He stumbled and spun backward, and as the bull swung again, Heror rolled beneath the attack and now carried his blade forward.

The bull flashed his club to the left, blocking the blade, but he turned his body sideways, and gave Heror a window to engage. Heror leapt onto the bull’s hunched back, taking his sword with him. The bull swung around his own body, trying to catch Heror with the snap of his club. But Heror, perched on the bull’s shoulders, ducked the club, then stabbed his sword into the bull’s upper body a dozen times, until the bull fell to his knees and crumbled to the ground.

Heror rolled off the dead bull, and for a moment, he felt a tinge of confidence. But that confidence was snuffed out when he saw more approaching with the three-horned leader. With one fell swoop, the three-horned bull dispatched two siephalls with his club, and slowly stepped toward the fractured formation, as the Midans advanced around him.

Now Heror glanced over his shoulder again. The right side of the formation had collapsed, and siephalls were scrambling just to stay alive. The rear flank was compromised, and as Heror’s eyes carried over to the southern forest edge, he saw that the rest of the Ardysan army was still nowhere to be found.

Heror’s blood pulsed with heat and anger, and as his eyes made their way back to the front of the formation, they met Nihlukei’s for a moment. Nihlukei gave him a look of futility, then backed toward the forest edge with his weapons ready. The remaining siephalls condensed around Nihlukei, but by now, their numbers were steadily dwindling, as the right side all but vanished in a sea of Midans.

Khoulane stepped forward and swung at several attackers, besting them with his quickness and precision. But he only got through three before the three-horned bull sent a gigantic swing down toward him. Heror could only watch as the barbed club hit Khoulane directly in the midsection. There was a deafening metallic crunch as the club collapsed Khoulane’s breastplate, and Khoulane flew into the air. His body was thrown into the woods from the blow, and he fell out of Heror’s sight.

Now they numbered less than 90, and their numbers dwindled still. Heror stared at the three-horned bull as the menacing creature now turned its gaze on him. He glanced over his shoulder, and then frantically, his eyes shot back to the three-horned bull. The monster took another lumbering step toward him. Heror breathed heavily, sweat and grime streaking down his face in trails. As he glanced back again, he saw a Midan approaching his right side. The three-horned bull pulled back his barbed club again, and Heror dodged to the left, falling in toward Nihlukei. The three-horned bull swung anyway, killing its comrade as it did so. Unfazed, the three-horned bull turned to its right, again advancing toward Heror.

Less than 60 now, and still, the Midans did not relent. Heror and Nihlukei stood next to each other, the trees at their backs. Midans closed in from all directions, slowly cutting down the rest of the Ardysan unit. Heror glanced at Nihlukei as they backed in, weapons drawn against an unstoppable force.

“It’s been an honor, Heror,” Nihlukei told his siekariphae, his voice grim.

Heror stared at the siekarum for a moment, then nodded. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. More Midans filled in ahead of the three-horned bull, and with one glance, Heror and Nihlukei chose to fight.

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They each engaged one bull to start. Nihlukei deflected the bull’s swing with his aspidan, and Heror charged in, stabbing the creature in the throat. The siekariphae then swung back and cut down another, and as a third attempted to take advantage of Heror’s compromised position, Nihlukei rushed in and killed it with a quick stab to the chest.

Two more smaller bulls charged in after the first group, and Heror and Nihlukei kept their rhythm. Side by side, they stood their ground, deflecting attacking blows and recoiling with sharpened blades. One bull managed to swipe Heror’s legs out from under him with an indirect swing, but as Heror recovered his stance, Nihlukei stepped in to defend him, and ruthlessly tore down over a dozen bulls that closed in on their location.

The siekarum’s sword whirled around with inhuman quickness and force, and the siekarum himself let out a roar, blood spewing around him as more and more bulls met certain death within his reach. Even Heror himself was at a loss as he watched Nihlukei. Each swing was deadly accurate, with no wasted motions. Each movement carried into the next, and each bull that came near Nihlukei fell. Even when two came at him at once, Nihlukei made his swings bigger, and more violent. Even as they attempted to surround him, he spun like a vortex – like a mage whose magic was the blade.

Now Heror sprung back into action, using the attention drawn by Nihlukei to catch others off-guard. The young siekariphae found himself energized, and rallied next to his leader. He sliced his way through several more bulls. One tried to flank Nihlukei from the rear, but Heror bashed the bull’s club out of his hand with the aspidan. When the bull-person let loose a strong kick, Heror dodged to the right and slashed the bull in the throat. A second bull came to assist, but Heror was ready. He unleashed a devastating swing toward the bull’s temple. Adrenaline took over, as he cut down approaching enemies left and right.

Soon enough, over thirty bulls had fallen at the hands of Heror and Nihlukei alone. Nihlukei stood over a mound of bodies. Only the three-horned bull remained on their side of the line, standing in silence.

Catching his breath, Heror glanced over his shoulder one more time. The Midan forces had thinned, but they still outnumbered what was left of the Ardysans – less than 40 now. And as Heror’s eyes again went to the entrance to the pass, he saw that no reinforcements were coming.

At last, the three-horned bull stepped toward Heror and Nihlukei, huffing through its nose. Nihlukei glanced at Heror before turning his attention back to the enemy. Then, the three-horned bull swung toward its foes.

With a thunderous lurch, the bull swung its barbed club toward the two soldiers, and both Heror and Nihlukei were forced to duck. Once it completed its first swing, the bull gripped the club in the opposite direction, swinging the spear tip back toward the two. Heror dodged low again, while Nihlukei leaned back, hearing the hollow hiss of the metal tip as it seared just inches away from his face.

Growing agitated, the three-horned bull now swung the club over its head and sent it toward the ground with tremendous force. The club shook the Aelyum as it hit, and it lodged itself into the dirt from the force of the swing. The three-horned bull struggled to dislodge the club, and as it strained, Nihlukei ran up the club’s hilt. He vaulted over the bull’s shoulders, slashing it in the back of the neck. The bull let out a cry of pain and wrenched its club free from the ground, then let loose an ear-popping swing toward Nihlukei, who was jumping down from the bull’s shoulders. Nihlukei rolled upon hitting the ground, barely dodging the bull’s swing. Then he rushed to his feet and filed back in next to Heror.

Now they heard a shout from behind, and as Heror turned, he saw more Midans coming for their rear flank, trickling past the last of the Ardysan force. Nihlukei saw them, too. But he could only turn his gaze for a moment before the three-horned bull swung for him again. Nihlukei engaged the monster, while Heror turned to face the new attackers – intent on defending the last member of his pack.

His lungs were tired, and his joints ached, but still, Heror willed himself to persevere. With newfound energy, he feigned a high attack against two approaching bulls, then lurched and swung low, slicing at their legs. A third leapt over them, bringing a spear with him, but Heror sidestepped the long blade and shafted the attacker in the chest with his sword. One more came after them, but for the first time, Heror saw them hesitate. Heror reset his feet, daring them to approach with splintering blue eyes. The final bull-person met Heror with a ruthless swing of his club, but Heror used a forte counter to shed the impact, and followed it with a stab to the chest.

With a break, Heror turned to help Nihlukei. As he turned, however, he feared he was too late. Nihlukei was struggling against the three-horned bull. The beast’s swings were too wide and fast for the siekarum to handle alone, and they came with unnatural quickness, one after the other. Heror started for the siekarum, but before he could, one of the bull’s swings struck Nihlukei’s side, throwing him into a tree. Clutching his ribcage, Nihlukei grunted and tried to recover, but just as he stood, the three-horned bull reared up and sent its club upward in a parabolic whir. And then, with ferocious power, it swung straight downward. The barbed club sent a low ear-rattling hum through the air, and before Heror could do anything, it came down straight onto Nihlukei’s helmet, with the force of a meteor.

There was a sickening crack, and Nihlukei’s eyes went wide. He stumbled backward into the tree trunk, eyes frozen in a half-alive daze, blood trickling down his face from his temple. Heror let out an unconscious scream and bolted toward the beast, his blade pointing forward. But before he could strike, the three-horned bull sent its club back toward him. The club whirled around and blasted Heror in the midsection. All at once, Heror felt his ribs shatter, and the air rushed from his chest in a forced explosion. The blow tossed him into the air like a rag doll, and he rolled in the dirt, coming to a stop at the edge of the forest.

At first, he thought he was dead. Lying on his stomach, Heror tried to breathe, but each inhale was met with a sharp pain in his abdomen. Covered in dirt and blood, he watched, with his cheek in the grass, as the last Ardysans were cut down one by one. They fought hard for their last breaths, but by now, the Midans had encircled them. And their numbers dwindled even further. Five, four, three… two…

Until the last Ardysan fell to a spear through the gut. And all at once, the battlefield was still.

Heror lay frozen, his heart thumping as he watched the Midans disperse without a word. At the edge of his periphery, he saw the three-horned bull turn back toward the center of the pass, walking away from Heror. With the Midans’ backs to him for a moment, he leaned to his left slightly and saw Nihlukei’s body leaning against the tree, eyelids drooping. Heror let out a pained whisper of a breath and started to reach forward, trying to crawl out of sight. As soon as he did so, however, he saw the chief spearman turn in his direction, just thirty feet inside the pass. And he froze again.

The spearman -- the bull-person with the tall pauldron -- began spearing bodies on the ground. One by one, to ensure that death had been achieved. Other spearmen did the same across the battlefield. From a distance, Heror could hear the croak of a siephall clinging to life, and his heart started to move even faster. Shaking, Heror swallowed and tried to reach forward again, but as he stretched his arm, more pain shot up his abdomen. He gritted his teeth and fought through it, clutching a clump of soil with trembling fingers. He dragged himself forward, and he heard the sound of metal meeting flesh yet again.

He reached again, heaving through his nose. He heard the spear again. Another reach. Another spear, closer this time. Heror didn’t bother looking back anymore. He reached again, trying to hoist himself up off the ground. But there was too much pain, and he crumbled.

Now two heavy boots appeared in front of his face, and he felt the chief spearman standing over him. He heard the bull-person huff through his nose, and he heard the metal hum of the spear as the spearman raised it into the air once again. Shaking, Heror closed his eyes, and waited for the killing blow.

But instead, he heard something else.

A thick log hit the spearman’s shoulder, and the spearman huffed from his nose again. The bull-person turned around to see Nihlukei, propping himself up off the ground with his sword, trembling as he did so. The siekarum was off-balance, and his eyes were still glazed over, his face striped with blood. But he managed to rise back to his feet and lift his sword and aspidan, breathing heavily.

The spearman let out a growl and turned away from Heror, walking back toward Nihlukei. As the siekarum stood ready, the bull-person heaved his spear toward him. In an uncoordinated swoon, Nihlukei sidestepped the spear and grabbed it with both hands, pinching his sword beneath his palm. Gritting his teeth, Nihlukei pulled on the shaft of the spear, reeling the spearman in closer. The spearman tried to regain control, but Nihlukei pulled again, letting out an enraged shout. Once more, the spearman tried to pull back, but Nihlukei heaved one last time, stabbing the spear into the tree behind him.

With this last pull, Nihlukei brought the spearman within range. The spearman skidded forward in the dirt, trying to free its weapon, but before it could, Nihlukei grasped his sword again and thrust it forward, into the bull-person’s chest. After a moment, he pulled it out, and the spearman fell into the dirt.

Seeing the commotion, several bull-people started in Nihlukei’s direction, and the three-horned bull followed. Heror stared at Nihlukei, and for a moment, Nihlukei’s tired eyes met the boy’s. Nihlukei mouthed something to Heror that Heror couldn’t understand. Then he mouthed it again.

Go.

Heror was frozen. Nihlukei moved his mouth again, words no more than a whisper in the wind.

Go…

Heror glanced back toward the battlefield. They were coming. Torn between defending his friend and making this last stand worthwhile, Heror finally chose a course of action. As they approached, their eyes fixed on Nihlukei, Heror rolled in the grass, rolling until he was hidden in the taller forest underbrush. He slid down an incline, and slowly crawled back up, peering out from behind a tree trunk, watching as the bull-people closed in on his siekarum.

Nihlukei leaned on the spearman’s weapon, cradled between it and the tree. The first bull-person attacked him with a cleaver, but Nihlukei blocked it with his aspidan and stabbed the bull. The second swung a club at Nihlukei, but the siekarum rolled his shoulder to dodge the blow, then sliced sideways, slashing the enemy’s neck. Angered, the three-horned bull stomped toward Nihlukei, its footsteps shaking the ground – until it towered over him, as the siekarum crumbled against the tree.

Nihlukei struggled to breathe, and he stared up at the beast with wide green eyes. He sent his sword into the beast’s abdomen, but the giant bull let it enter freely. The sword stuck out of the three-horned bull’s torso, but the beast did not react. Instead, the bull grabbed Nihlukei’s aspidan with its free hand and violently wrenched it from his grasp, breaking the leather straps. Then, as Nihlukei stood helpless, the beast shoved the aspidan’s flat side through Nihlukei’s stomach with brutal force, stabbing it into the tree trunk through his body.

Nihlukei coughed loudly, and blood seeped out of his mouth. He opened his mouth wide, gasping for air. Heror watched as Nihlukei’s eyes rose to the heavens with his last string of life, as if spotting a ray of sunlight piercing through the clouds. Nihlukei’s chest heaved several more times, and then, the siekarum’s eyes slowly closed, and his body went limp, still leaning against the trunk of the great pine tree.

The three-horned bull left for good this time, and the Midans reorganized farther down the pass, leaving the bodies to linger in silence. But Heror remained, lying on his stomach just outside the pass, staring with wide eyes at Nihlukei’s body. He hoped the siekarum would wake up again, and somehow, in a burst of life and energy, free himself. But hours passed, and nothing moved. The Sun started to fall in the west, its orange hue trickling through the fading overcast.

Only when night began to fall did Heror turn onto his back. His mind and body broken, he winced and rose to his feet, holding his ribs with his left hand. With frightened eyes, he took his first step forward into the wilderness, when something in the nearby bushes caught his attention. He froze, but as he watched, he saw that it was only a fox, emerging from a thicket.

Heror’s nose curled with anger. He grabbed a branch from the ground and hurled it.

“Get away!!!”

The fox fled into the dark, letting out a chatter. A wave of exhaustion suddenly overcame Heror, and after looking around once more – wide eyes watering, chest heaving – he set off into the forest, to the sound of crickets.