Shadows moved on the far side of the room, and the company shifted into battle-ready stances. Masego was not alone.

At Jerrik's whispered command, the company formed into two rows, with Jerrik, the Stalwart, and another soldier in the lead. The other three soldiers formed a tight rank behind Kevlin.

A rough voice called out of the darkness. "Show us the prisoner."

Jerrik pulled Kevlin forward. "Show us the gold."

In answer, the room rang with the twanging of bows being fired. The deadly sound was loud in the enclosed space.

"Look out!" Jerrik yelled as arrows shot out of the darkness. He pushed Kevlin behind him.

Kevlin stumbled, and in the flickering light of their torches, witnessed arrows driving into Jerrik and the other men in the front rank. Some clanged loud against the steel of plate and chainmail armor, but some sank deep, with the sickening sound of steel driving into flesh.

Jerrik roared in pain and staggered. He tripped over Kevlin and fell hard on his back. Beside him, the other two men toppled to the ground.

Kevlin couldn't catch Jerrik's massive bulk. Four arrows stood out from Jerrik's torso. The sight filled Kevlin with cold dread.

Jerrik's face twisted in pain and he gasped with each breath.

The enemy on the far side of the room un-hooded several lanterns that now illuminated a dozen black-clad men who had stood hidden in the shadows.

A blond-haired fellow with wide shoulders and a heavy, single brow pointed at Kevlin. "Take that one alive. Kill the rest."

His men dropped their bows and drew swords. The steely hiss raced down Kevlin's spine like ice.

The attackers charged.

Kevlin glanced down at Jerrik, who was pawing weakly at his huge broadsword. The sight filled Kevlin with a towering fury. He brushed Jerrik's hand aside and drew the massive blade.

Kevlin hefted the sword and turned toward the attackers, a snarl on his lips. This weapon would do. Jerrik had always stood by him, an indomitable force who had saved Kevlin's life more than once. That the big man's last act had been to protect him filled him with rage.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

"I'll be back in a minute," he growled.

Then he turned toward the charging men and howled a wordless battle cry so loud it strained his voice.

Kevlin charged.

He raced to meet them, Jerrik's huge sword held high. He didn't know if one of them might be Masego. He didn't care.

He planned to kill them all.

Kevlin's arms burned with the need to kill as battle fury swept over him. He poured on more speed and closed the distance. The earthen floor was hard underfoot, and dust coated the inside of his mouth.

Kevlin met the center of the attacking line with a mighty sweep of Jerrik's sword that beat aside one man's blade and carved through his shoulder. Kevlin ducked another sword, and slammed his shoulder into the next man's chest, driving the man from his feet.

Then he burst through the attackers' line. The men had spread out as they charged, leaving their line thin and ragged. Kevlin wheeled left and sped across the back of their line, slashing at surprised soldiers, but not slowing.

Several men in the center of the line had halted to face him, but he left them far behind and ran down the men still charging at his last two standing companions.

One man tried to spin to face Kevlin, but tripped and fell. Kevlin took off his head, then struck down the man's companion as he prepared to attack the men of Kevlin's company.

Those survivors had formed a protective circle around their fallen comrades. They beckoned him to stand with them, but he kept running. They could hold their line for a time. He needed to harry the attackers and keep them distracted.

It was a suicide tactic, but he only needed to stay alive another minute until reinforcements arrived. The sound of battle would draw them on, but he planned to do a lot of killing before they arrived.

So Kevlin moved fast. Enemies fanned out to cut him off, and he barreled through their lines, slashing where he could, but lacking time for focused thrusts.

Several of the attackers moved against Kevlin's three companions, who fought valiantly to protect the fallen men of their company. For now, they held their own.

Kevlin ranged across the room, drawing more enemies after him. He was soon panting, and his arms ached from swinging Jerrik's massive sword, but he couldn't slow. One misstep, one moment of hesitation and they would box him in and slaughter him.

These men hadn't worked together before. That much was obvious. Had they functioned as a close-knit unit, they'd have cut Kevlin down quickly. Instead of anticipating each other's moves and working together to tighten the ring of steel around Kevlin, they mis-judged each other's moves, stumbling into each other, and leaving avenues open for Kevlin's escape.

Kevlin took advantage of every mistake. He slipped through openings in their ranks, slashing at arms and legs and faces, trying to add to their confusion and to stay one step ahead.

As the fighting ranged close to the far side of the room, Kevlin caught sight of two doors there. A shadowy figure stepped through the right-most door. Kevlin hoped it might be the blond-haired leader who he'd lost sight of during the fast-paced battle.

It was not the blond soldier.

It was Tanathos.