The arrow struck Estriadites’ helmet and he fell to the ground, not moving. Golden Torc rode at us with twenty horsemen. I shouted something unintelligible to alert the others and slid my sword back into its scabbard. An arrow flew by my head. Within four breaths, the horsemen were upon us. The moment devolved into chaos. A rider came at me. I blocked his sword with my shield but missed with my spear.

Another ten riders closed in on us from the other direction. Hoplites that were unprepared for the charge were knocked over and a few were trampled in the confusion. I planted my feet and plunged my spear into the flank of the horse nearest me. Expecting the horse to collapse, I tried to pull my spear free but the horse bucked and ran off, pulling the spear from my sweaty grasp before collapsing thirty paces away on the other side of the enemy horsemen.

Looking around the ground hastily, I found the spear of one of the trampled hoplites. Another rider fought one of our men over a hoplite’s corpse. Dropping to my knees, I crawled between the man and horse. With the spear now within my grasp, I pulled it from the dead man’s hand. The horse reared and its hooves kicked in the air. I rolled away just in time, the weight of the horse crushed down on the dead man.

Pulling away from the two, I ducked between some men and looked around. Only a few of our hoplites were down. Most of the riders remained on their mounts. They galloped in wide circles around us, some launching arrows at us, others striking then quickly retreating. The horse I speared was lying thirty paces from me. Its rider was trying to pull the spear from the crying animal’s side.

With a running start, I held my shield arm out to balance the throw I was about to make when the spear seemed front heavy. Slowing to a halt, I found the bottom quarter of the spear along with the butt-spike and counterweight had been snapped off. From that distance, I knew I couldn’t make the throw with an unbalanced spear. Flipping my grip from overhand to underhand and set to run through the circling horsemen.

A passing rider swung an ax at me. Deflecting the blow with my shield, I heard a crack with the impact. I knew more blows like that would lead to a broken shield. The rider halted his horse and turned for another pass when a spear pierced his chest and knocked him from his mount. Estriadites, standing with his empty spear arm extended, stood back with the other hoplites and nodded to me. Nodding back, I turned to face my target.

The rider whose horse I had killed now faced me with the spear he pulled from its side. He stood without a shield, both feet planted and both hands gripping the spear. His Elahkarian robes were speckled with blood, likely not his own. Though he was not as splendid a sight as Abda-Hajjir, he also struck a well-muscled figure. I had figured him to be a bodyguard to the man Klysestes had relieved of his head.

The spearhead came at me, and I felt its impact on my shield. I planted my feet to thrust my own spear when he hit my shield again. Instead of a direct thrust, he knocked my shield to the side and struck my chest. The wind fell from my lungs as my armor took the impact. I could tell the blow had almost pierced through my linothorax.

I staggered back and readied. Horses were neighing and the field behind me was alive with the sounds of bronze striking bronze and men shouting. I looked around in haste to make sure no one tried striking me from behind.

The man leaped forward to strike. I moved my grip to overhand and braced my shield. He struck high on my shield, then low at my leg. I moved in time but again he swatted my shield to the side with the spear shaft again. This time I was ready, I leaned forward before he could strike again, and threw my spear at his chest. We were at a distance where I could only miss if I chose to. My spear flew from my hand and struck my enemy in his chest.

My heart almost lurched from my chest when I saw my spear had bounced off his chest, must have had scale armor under his robes. The man fell backward after he was hit and landed on his back. He lay on the ground holding his chest. In a moment of panic, I threw my shield aside and grabbed the spear he dropped. With both hands, as he held it, I rammed its butt-spike into his throat as he tried to get up. Again and again, I pierced his neck with the spike.

Gurgling his with blood, the man grabbed the spear shaft. I tore it from his grasp, turning my back on him. There are some wounds you know men will not come back from. I stood with both ends of my spear bloodied. Dust was in the air as the fighting continued. It looked like the horsemen caused enough chaos and charged into our unorganized hoplites. I prayed to the war god in gratitude that no one had stabbed me in the back while I had been distracted.

I stood for a moment, to catch my breath. My hands shook, cold and sweaty. The pain in my side again made itself known. It wasn’t fear that made me shake, only nerves. When facing another man, your mind and body are of singular purpose, and you can push yourself to meet that purpose. After it is finished, it takes from you, as one would expect after a constant strain. I was beginning to learn this but would not fully understand it yet. Another small thing.

I took a sip from my half-empty canteen and hesitated a moment, remembering I was outside of the battle in front of me. I remained outside all the small fights around me. We had already won the main battle, would it be cowardice to walk away from this one?

Estriadites’ bronze shield, with three black crows painted on its face, caught my eye before he jumped out of the way of a horse. Our men formed a schiltron so they could not be flanked. It seemed that no one had noticed me standing alone. I ignored my sour stomach, picked up my shield, and ran toward him at speed. My last brother would not die today.

****

Estriadites’ teeth shown through the cheek guards of his helmet as he smiled at my arrival. His sword was drawn and blood from it ran down the vambrace of his forearm. I ran up the schiltron with arrows whistling by me. The formation opened just wide enough for me to fit in. Reversing direction, I closed the gap with my shield and gasped for breath.

I saw a rider to my right advancing with a javelin, ready to hurl at us. He waited too long and another hoplite broke formation and pulled him from his mount. Seeing a few more horsemen off that direction, I ran in to aid him. The battle joy started to return to me. He stabbed at the dismounted nomad, who rolled toward his attacker with the javelin and stabbed the hoplite in his exposed thigh. The hoplite fell to his knee as the nomad rose, grabbed his spear with both hands, and kicked him onto his back.

I stepped forward, challenging the nomad. The nomad’s headscarf was undone and swaying with the movement of his head, revealing his stern face. He ran at me and thrust his spear. The spearhead broke through my cracked shield. My spear narrowly missed him but when he tried to pull his spear free, it remained firmly planted in my shield. I pulled hard, leading him off balance and thrusting my spear again.

The nomad dropped his weapon and jumped back, avoiding my strike. Footsteps were behind me. Looking back, other hoplites broke formation and charged another enemy. I threw down the spear laden shield and moved in. In two quick motions, I struck low and then high. Both times the nomad moved out of the way. I could see a body behind him and realized I could make him trip. Again I leaped in but instead of moving backward, the nomad slid to the side and grabbed the spear shaft.

A rider broke through the group that passed me and was riding right for the space between my enemy and me. The nomad and I quickly dropped the spear and jumped back. The horseman turned toward me and swung a sword at me. I ducked as quickly as I could. Looking up, the nomad came at me and rammed his shoulder into my stomach, tackling me to the ground.

The tackle knocked the wind from my lungs. My arms shot up in defense as the nomad climbed on top of me and grabbed a knife from the sheath on his waist. I reached out for his knife hand and blood splattered on my face, through the cheek guards my helmet. Blinking a few times, I saw a spearhead sticking from the front of the nomad’s chest. The nomad coughed and groaned, twitching before he leaned backward. His body slumped off of me when the spear was ripped from his body.

Estriadites stood, holding the bloody spear. The butt-spike of the weapon was extended to me. I grabbed it, and he helped pull me to my feet. “Gratitude,” was all I could say. I smile because thinking to that day, I thank the gods I didn’t piss myself. I thought I had since my legs were dripping. Reaching for my ceramic canteen, I found that it had been broken when I was tackled.

My brother planted his spear in the ground and handed me his water skin. No horsemen were near us so I took a drink. It was then that I realized weren’t many horsemen left on the field. Some surely fled but many had died by our spears. Having more time to think, I reasoned they must have been part of the rearguard protecting their infantry that had fled the field.

More of our hoplites returned from that chase to regroup and strip bodies of anything that held value. The riders I saw either were cornered or hadn’t made up their mind about retreating yet. There was no question, we won the battle. I handed the water skin back to my brother. Grabbing my spear, I walked over to where my wrecked shield lay. The spear still pierced it. I bent down and pulled free my sheathed cavalry sword that I had tied to the inside of the shield. It was also the moment I decided that tying my only other weapon to my shield had been a mistake.

I fixed my sheath to my waist and by chance, I looked over and saw him. The rider with the golden torc was locked in combat with Klysestes. It happened quickly. Golden Torc charged Klysestes, who rolled out of the way and continued to deftly slip the spears of other hoplites as he fled. He galloped in my direction.

With no moment wasted, I sped toward the rider, Estriadites trailed behind me. With only a spear in my hand, I needed him to try to run me down, and make sure he did not cut me down. It is unclear if it was courage or the stupidity of youth, but I moved closer to make my purpose clear.

He looked at the pursuers behind him and charged me head on. I stopped and planted my feet. Both hands clutched my spear as he approached. Golden Torc held his curved sword out, ready to strike. My stomach soured as nervous sweat dripped from my brow. This was the last chance I would have to kill him if I could see it done.

Right as Golden Torc closed in on me I waited as long as I could before jumping directly into the path of the horse. I planted the butt-spike of my spear in the ground and angled its head at the horse’s chest. The horse rammed hard into the spear, causing the shaft to break. Part of its shoulder also hit me, sending me sprawling to the ground. The beast collapsed about ten paces from me.

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It may have been nerves or fear but my shoulder did not hurt. Though I could still command it, it felt tight. I rose as quickly as I could and drew my sword. Golden Torc was on the ground with his helmet rolling away from him. His mount had collapsed on his leg, and he desperately was trying to pull it from under its corpse.

More hoplites gathered around us and were closing in on our enemy who had just freed his leg and now stood, sword in hand. I ran closer to him before the loose circle of hoplites descended on him. “Wait!” I shouted, taking my helmet off to be heard. “Wait! I claim this man! He has done me harm, and I would repay him in kind!” The other hoplites stopped and look around at each other. It’s very hard to judge if someone takes you seriously with a helmet covering most their face. “I claim his death!”

Estriadites, with Klysestes nearby, jogged up behind me, “Brother, this is unwise. The man is dangerous.”

I smiled and looked at Klysestes, “Should I fall, make sure he follows me to the afterlife.” He looked wary but nodded.

“Estrios,” my brother began to protest.

“He took Estrianes’ head, and now I will claim his.”

“You don’t know it was him,” he replied.

“It was,” I told him with a resolute look. “I need it to be him. I need someone to punish.”

Estriadites looked at Golden Torc who stood defensively with a curved sword, then back to me. He let out a deep breath, “Put away your sword.” I turned to him with anger in my eyes. He planted his spear next to me, “You’ll need to be properly armed.” Pulling the large bronze shield from his arm, he held it out to me. I smiled thankfully and sheathed my sword. With my helmet on, armed with Estriadites’ shield and bloody spear, I walked toward my enemy.

Golden Torc was cautiously eying the hoplites around him when he saw me approach. He looked around again, then back at me. A smile crossed his face. He unfastened his hip quiver, which had a large scar on it from Ankarathesos and let it fall to the ground. The edge of his sword had drying blood on it. I couldn’t help but think that it was Estrianes’.

I approached him cautiously, with my shield raised and my spear resting on its rim. I wanted to threaten him or give him cause to remember me but the warrior’s sickness was creeping into my mind, fear. At least twice this day, he had bested me in combat and seemed to prove himself unwilling to even be cut. My fear reminded me of this. For a moment, I reconsidered my decision. If he died by another’s hand, he would be just as dead if slain by my own.

Everyone’s eyes were on me. I pushed all thoughts from my mind, save for the image of Estrianes’ head rolling on the grass. If I couldn’t summon courage, I would settle for hate and anger. My footfalls were slow as I approached my enemy. Within spear range, I readied to strike. Golden Torc lurched toward me, sword raised and screaming.

I jumped back and nearly fell. Though I prepared to receive his attack, none came. My heart was beating fast. Golden Torc had not moved. He stood and laughed at how he had spooked me. My heart turned dark, and I grit my teeth. With a cry of war, I ran forward and thrust my spear at his stomach. He leaned out of the way. Again, I struck at his chest. He hopped to the side and smiled.

My spear went for his throat. Golden Torc moved to the side and grabbed the shaft of my spear. His face grimaced. The curved sword struck high so I raised my shield, expecting the blow. Instead, his sword curved around and the blow came down into the side of my greave, denting it. The metal dug into my calf.

Desperately, I tried to pull my spear from his grip, but he pulled back harder. Almost falling off balance, I dropped the spear and spun around, and drew the sword from my waist. He also released the spear and leaned from the path of my sword. I swung again. His sword hit mine, knocking it out of the way, and with both hands swung at my head. I raised the shield as quickly as I could but the sword was quicker. It rang my helmet as if it were a bell.

I staggered from the blow and as I looked forward again, Golden Torc delivered a front kick to the center of my shield. My back hit the rocky ground and the air left my lungs. I looked up quickly and prepared to defend myself but saw him gritting his teeth and walking around gingerly on one of his legs. It suddenly came back to me. When I killed his horse, the beast fell on his leg. I knew not if anything had broken but at the least, it was causing him pain. If I could yet make him move on it, the advantage would be mine.

My brother and Klysestes were among those shouting encouragement to me. Quickly rising to my feet, I raised my shield and leveled my sword. “Cut his good leg!” yelled Estriadites.

“Use your shield as a ram!” yelled Klysestes.

“Just kill him already!” shouted Helion, who had shown up at some point.

My breaths were quick and shallow. Sweat dripped down my nose under my helmet. Each attack brought forth more exhaustion. As I stopped thinking of my own death, I thought less about his. Water and rest were my only desire. What hope was there for my victory? Every encounter with this man had only led to near death. Whatever strike I made was dodged, parried, or blocked. I could not even begin to touch him and avoid being outclassed with every step.

Doing my best to push these thoughts from mind, I ran in at Golden Torc with my sword gripped tight. With my shield under my eyes, I was going to afford him no opportunity to strike me. My sword was swift and my strike true. He parried my thrust like a nobleman talking down to a freedman. His sword knocked mine to the side and his shoulder rammed into my shield, knocking me backward. The curved sword came for my leg next. I pulled it from danger with little time to spare. It then came at my other leg, which I pulled back. I tried hard not to fall back but each of his strikes set me teetering backward. He moved forward with each strike, gritting his teeth in pain.

My arms came up to keep balance and the curved sword rammed into my chest. The force of the blow jarred me, and I fell, meeting the dusty ground with my back. Had Golden Torc possessed a good straight sword, he might have pierced my heart with that blow. My chest could feel the bruise forming. I prayed that I would have the energy to keep fighting and not simply lay there and wait for death.

Golden Torc’s sword stabbed at my groin but was blocked by my shield. He raised the weapon again, and I rolled to my side as the curved sword buried its edge in the grassy dirt. Hobbling toward me, he brought the blade down again. I rolled on to one side and kicked his injured foot as hard as I could. Golden Torc fell on his side with a loud groan.

I stabbed hard, catching the armor on his chest without hurting him. He rolled back, and we both scrambled to our feet. A sense of hope washed over me as I took labored breaths. This was the first time I had actually touched him with my blade. Hope gave me new life. I now had to ensure it wasn’t squandered.

My shield arm hung low, the weight of the shield bearing on it. I glanced down at its bronze face and the three crows. These shields are the hoplite’s strength in battle, creating a long unbroken wall of bronze. In this moment, I realized it was not so. That shield was slowing my movement, sapping my strength, and tiring my body. In a gamble to ensure I moved with speed, I let the shield slide off my arm onto the ground.

I observed my enemy. Golden Torc breathed heavily yet calmly. His eyes looked back at mine. Though I knew he was getting tired, I was more so. His narrow eyes seemed to regard me more seriously. My breathing slowed a little and my mind calmed. I remembered others were watching and looked quickly around. Most of the hoplites were quiet or whispering to each other. Estriadites looked ready to cast the new spear in the beat of a heart.

Golden Torc looked around quickly and said something in a language I did not understand, though his tone seemed to convey the point. I was not worthy. He pointed at me and laughed. I was about to charge in when I caught myself. He was only trying to provoke me. His foot hurt too much to chase me, and he wanted me to come to him, so he would not tire.

I couldn’t help but grin. There was nothing I could think of to provoke him. I could call his mother a whore and his father a goat fucker, but he didn’t speak my language. When I thought about it, he had been letting me attack him this whole time. If I stayed out of his range, I would have no fear of being attacked. A plan formed in my mind. Golden Torc’s scale armor tunic stopped at his waist, though two wide strips protected is thighs. His groin and inner thighs were unprotected, as were his arms above the silver vambraces.

Thoughts about all the areas I could strike came to mind if I could get in close. I thought about this while he jeered at me and probably called me a coward and a woman in his own tongue. A clear feeling of what I had to do settled in my mind.

I walked toward him slowly, sword raised defensively. My eyes met his. We stared at each other as I approached. When I was close, the moment he blinked is when I ran. I closed the distance as quickly as I could. His sword came down and my hand raised instinctively. Ducking low, my straight sword plunged straight into Golden Torc’s groin, just below the top of his breeches. His blow came down hard on my shoulder and made me fall to a knee. I pushed the blade in further as he collapsed.

My blade ripped from his body, and he screamed in pain. I saw he still gripped his sword so I moved back. My smile grew to see the finger length end of my sword with blood on it. The sword that took my father’s life had now avenged Estrianes. I watched my enemy squirm on the ground with satisfaction. The other hoplites around me looked concerned but cheered loudly.

As I caught my breath, a heavy pain began to grip my shoulder. I grabbed the bottom of my helmet with my sword still in hand and slid it off my head. My sweat soaked hair caught the breeze and it amazed me how good it felt. I looked at the shoulder which took the blow and there was a deep cut in my linothorax. The iron buckle on my armor took the brunt of the blow and was now in two pieces. There was some blood on my shoulder, and I thought I could feel a trickle of blood underneath.

The happiness faded as the rider pushed himself up to his knees. One hand was on his wound, the other held his sword. Blood seeped between his fingers and his face was of composed pain, his eyes, pure malice. My arms shook. I could not tell if it was fear or nerves, but the thought of continuing the fight turned my bowels to water. This man would simply not die.

Golden Torc face turned disgusted. He spat on the ground and turned his head up to the blue sky and shouted something that sounded like ‘Dengrei’. I don’t know what he was yelling, but he looked back at me and hurled his sword away from him. Head hung low, he mumbled then looked up at me and yelled something else as he straightened his neck and closed his eyes. The golden torc around his neck glinted in the afternoon sun. Blood oozed from between his fingers. His other hand moved around his back, bracing it. Painfully, his posture straightened.

He knew his head was mine, he knew it was mine, and I closed in to take it. Gripping my cavalry sword with both hands, my heart nearly skipped a beat. I tried as hard as I could not to panic when I caught a glimpse of the missing fingers. The rider’s blade and sheared off four of my fingers at the middle knuckles before hitting my shoulder. I’ve heard stories of men losing bits in battle and not feeling it but put no stock into those stories until now. Another small thing that is taught and not learned.

I couldn’t feel my fingers, but I could feel the blood drain from my face in that moment. This had to be finished before I collapsed. Only now did the pain come. Placing my reddened sticky palm on the grip of my sword, I stood in front of my vanquished foe and prepared to take his life. As I raised the sword to my side, Golden Torc’s eyes opened and a knife came around quickly from behind him. I jumped back as quickly as I could, but his dagger sliced deep in the front of my thigh.

My arms raised above my head when I tried to evade the strike. With my feet planted, both hands gripped my sword as well as they could, and I brought it down with all my might. The crunch it made as the blade bit into his skull is a sound that will never leave me. He dropped the dagger and his arms went slack. The middle of my blade bit deep into his head. Trying to pull the blade free only made the face look up at me. I released the sword and the body fell backward. The rider with the golden torc lay on his back with his knees buckled, my sword still in his head. I looked at his dagger on the ground, picked it up, straddled the corpse, and slit its throat.

Estriadites and Helion rushed in while everyone cheered and chanted my name. I could barely hear them. With as much effort as I could still command, I sawed the dagger blade into the corpse’s neck, through the windpipe and muscle. His head would yet be mine. Blood leaked quickly and spurted as I sawed.

My brother pulled me backward off the body. “He’s dead!” yelled Estriadites. “It’s over!”

I moved to finish my work and he pushed me down. I can’t say how much blood I left on that field, but I felt that I couldn’t get up again. He dropped his weapons, grabbed my wounded hand and began to wrap it in a bandage.

“You actually killed him!” said Helion in excitement. His face turned wry, “Now try not to bleed to death.” There were many things I wanted to call him but was too tired to reply.

Klysestes walked over and stood above me with some other hoplites, “Back away. Give him air.” They obeyed. He opened his mouth and then closed it. I can’t remember if he said anything to me, but I know that I had to be carried off the field just before fainting.