Somewhere off to my left a group of the soldiers disappear, a large pit of sand collapsing in on itself, I shudder to think what the hunters have left at the bottom to greet them. Time slows as new arrival’s eyes widen in surprise before their momentum carries them forward after their comrades.
Beside me Faelyn swings wildly over the defences, comfortably standing one side whilst his exceptionally long arm slashes over the other. He makes contact with one of the invaders, wedging the blade through the plates and into the man’s collarbone. The struck man cries out as Faelyn tears the blade free, leaving his victim to collapse into the sand, turning it red.
I lunge forwards, thrusting my spear tip into an oncoming helmet. My opponent stumbles backwards, momentarily dazed before he is spun like a top by the incoming charge, crashing to the ground before being trampled by others.
Faelyn brings down another, but he overswings, leaving his shoulder and sword arm unguarded. I smack the side of my spear against the flat of a blade as a soldier attempts to take the opportunity. A breathless thanks is voiced above me as Faelyn ensures that the man cannot try again.
I continue my dance. Lunge, thrust, retreat. I hold my section, knocking back each soldier that advances, but for everyone I defeat another two take their place. The armoured fallen slowly build up in the sand, adding another obstacle for the oncoming horde as they tumble over their comrades towards us. A few trip, unable to twist out of the way before they are impaled before us. Their mouths move soundlessly, pleading before one of the tribespeople puts an end to their suffering as soon as the moment presents itself.
I can’t bring myself to look at them, these strange men dying at my feet. For all the pain that their people have caused, as they lay there with their dying eyes finding mine, they become people. They are no longer soulless warriors, they may approach as faceless men who are just another part of the masses, but at our feet they die as people. My stomach churns and I retch onto the wooden spokes before me.
One of the tribesmen brushing shoulders with me curses, for a second to my self-involved shame I foolishly think that the words are directed towards me. I straighten to find a colony man smiling victoriously as he continues his way towards the barricade, the tribesman’s wooden spear lay half buried in the sand. No, not half buried, it has been cut clean in two.
We handed out the last of the spears moments before this anarchy began, the tribesman will be defenceless now. Shouts echo up and down our ranks, yells of panic informing me that others are having the same problem as the unfortunate man next to me. We are going to be overwhelmed, I know it, I can see from his worried looks that Faelyn like everyone else, is quickly coming to the same realisation. The tribe are losing their weapons, soon we may all be defenceless.
The first breach happens moments later, a lone soldier making his way through to our side. He is swiftly cut down but now that he has cleared the path it doesn’t take long before another resumes his position.
“INCOMING!” I hear Orrian shout in the distance. As if to illustrate his warning I hear a dull thud as something heavy falls into the cushioning sand behind me.
Fearing an attack from behind as well now, all I can do is ready myself for the swordsman charging from the front. He makes it a few steps before his feet are whipped out from underneath him and he is dragged upwards into the leaves by thick rope. The trap isn’t finished, as the man launches skywards a thick log swings below. It’s heavy enough that its path is barely disrupted as it carries another soldier with it with a sickening crunch.
The hunters have bought me a couple of seconds. I immediately turn with my spear raised in defence, fearing that the breaching soldiers have managed to get behind us already.
There’s no one. I look down as a bloody trickle pools down against my bare toes. A man lies face down, his back a pincushion for the arrow embedded in it. We’ve got no cover and no real armour. I watch as more arrows fall from the sky on unsuspecting heads, invisible against the dusk sky. The unstoppable projectiles pepper our forces, opening the barricade for the ground troops. Orrian calls to fall back and the men around me begin to retreat, allowing the colony to advance.
My wrist snaps violently. Idiot, I round back to the soldiers as my spear goes tumbling from my grip and into the bodies on the floor the other side. I back up quickly, fumbling into my waistband for my knife as the soldier pulls himself over our defences. He strolls through the gap I’ve left, a predator stalking its defenceless prey. In my panic I stumble, freeing my blade as I fall crashing to the ground. It won’t do me much good now. I stare into the expressionless face of the swordsman who raises his sword high for the finishing below.
An arm wraps around his waist. Faelyn grunts with the effort as he launches the smaller man backwards with his free hand, the man’s sword goes flying out of his grip. Faelyn cuts down his original opponent before swiftly silencing my destined killer.
Faelyn looks down on me. I can picture myself from his perspective, small, unarmed, weak. His eyes pierce right through me and for the first time I feel he sees me for who I really am. I am no threat, no great warrior or saviour, like the rest of them I still need the help and protection of others.
“Run,” says Faelyn, turning his back on me to face the
