The horse stumbled to the ground, the spear sinking several feet into its chest. Something big had thrown that spear and Fil’s nightmares were realized as he looked up and saw a huge ogre lumber through the ranks of the tribesmen to finish off the rider.
Fil yanked out the sword in his side, grimacing from the pain just as the ogre moved towards the downed horse.
The rider had jumped free and rolled across the bloody ground to come up standing with sword and dagger held before him. “Finally a challenge,” the swordsman said to himself, loud enough for Fil to hear.
Fil marveled at the warrior’s amazing agility as he stumbled in to help him. The ogre glanced toward Fil as he tried to sneak in towards its tree trunk legs. The beast was as tall as two short men and its legs were stout and thick with muscle.
Fil sliced his short sword across the ogre’s leg but the blade did little damage to the thick skin. The beast roared, swinging its thick arm down and hitting Fil squarely in the chest, the immense strength of the blow breaking his ribs. He was thrown backward like a rock from a catapult, landing fifteen paces away. Though he was able to maintain consciousness, the pain was so intense that he could barely move. He felt his broken ribs move around inside him as he struggled to get up.
Kiln balanced himself on the balls of his feet as the ogre lumbered toward him. The ogre looked down at him as it attempted to kick him with its massive leather boot. The beast’s foot was as big as a small boulder. Kiln leaped to the side and sent his blades into motion. His weapons sliced into the ogre’s foot and calf twice before the ogre could even register the pain. His magical blades sliced through the thick skin easily, furrows of red appearing on the beast’s legs as Kiln danced around the slow behemoth.
The ogre roared in pain as it set its foot down and tried to reach out with its hands to crush the little human. But Kiln was a blur of razor sharp steel and he lunged under the hands, slicing his long sword across the beast’s abdomen simultaneously ramming his dagger into the left thigh of the ogre. The dagger sunk in deep and the ogre roared in pain as it reached down to yank out the weapon. Kiln dove between the ogre's legs, coming up in a roll just behind the huge creature. His long sword sliced left and right, cutting through the tendons located on the back of the beast’s knees. Again, the ogre howled in agony, dropping to the ground, while Kiln, simultaneously leaped into the air, driving the point of his sword down and through the ogre’s back, penetrating its lungs and heart. The warrior left his sword in the beast, landing lightly on his feet.
Fil held his body still and watched the swordsman carve the large ogre into meat. He didn’t want to move because of the pain and he was afraid an enemy warrior would see him and attack. Fil knew that in his state he would be hard pressed to defend himself.
The dead ogre fell face first onto the bloody ground with Kiln’s long sword jutting from its back, quivering in the air.
Kiln spun around toward the enemy warriors and yelled again. “Men of Finarth, hold the line!”
The soldiers responded with renewed courage and strength and they began to fight their way to the swordsman. Fil watched in amazement as the line began to reform and move towards the dark haired warrior. But the pain was too much and his vision began to blur. The ogre’s fist had done tremendous damage and it was difficult to breath. He fought to stay conscious but it was no use. His head sank to the ground and his body lay sprawled among the dead as he finally succumbed to the darkness.
Rorum, a young infantry soldier, felt a sharp sting to his thigh as he pivoted his body away from the curved blade of the attacking tribesman. The tribesman had swung hard, the momentum of his swing pushing him off balance as Rorum spun by him. He then sliced his short sword down and across the tribesman’s sword arm. The cut was deep and the enemy warrior screamed, staggering to his left where another Finarthian warrior finished him off.