he could expect no mercy from the Draskians if they should capture him.
Behind him a long cry rang out and he glared around to see a young page boy running towards him. The boy was smiling and Demos grinned, knowing the news he brought even before the lad spoke.
‘My lord, look! General Valshin and his men approach. We are saved!’
Far off Demos could see the approach of thousands of men. They marched beneath Valshin's banner and he heard cries of joy from his soldiers on the battlefield as word of the reinforcements spread. Heartened by this news the Akonites surged forward driving the Draskians back. The Draskians knew that they faced almost certain defeat now but still they battled on. They would die as warriors and take as many of their foes down into the underworld with them as they could.
Demos rested as he watched valshin and his men draw near. It had been a near thing, too near. In his arrogance he had underestimated the valour and courage of his foes. The Draskians were mighty warriors indeed and he would not make such a mistake again. He had learned this day that he had placed too much faith in the Heart of Ra. It was truly a terrible weapon but even so, he had almost been defeated.
His empire would be built not only by his magic but by the strength of his soldier’s sword arms, by the ruthless might of the army he commanded. He grinned at the thought. Other empires had been forged with men alone and so too would his be built. He would only use the power of the Heart of Ra to protect himself in future. As long as he commanded that power his generals would obey him and their soldiers would obey them; as long as he reminded them of his power occasionally.
He shook his head in self recrimination as he realised that he had no need to take the risk of going into battle himself. Not when he had thousands of soldiers to do it for him. So keen had he been to display his power that he had actually risked defeat and death at the hands of his enemies. That would not happen again.
The battle raged on as the Akonites grimly pushed the Draskians back. He saw Valshin and his men draw ever nearer then he frowned. Something did not look right about the rapidly approaching army. Then he cursed as he saw the standard bearers throw down their burdens and draw sword and mace and axe. Each of the approaching warriors swiftly attached a white strip of cloth to their Akonite helmets then they urged their mounts forward into a charge.
Loud cries of dismay and fear rang out as the Akonites realised they had been fooled. This was not general Valshin and his men. Thundering towards them came the Torran army, fired to fury by the lust for revenge.
Before any defence could be mustered the Torrans were among their enemies, dealing death with every blow. The Akonites tried to rally but their efforts were smashed down by the rampaging, ruthless Torrans. Demos glared at this new threat and cursed as he saw that to the front and rear his men were being slaughtered. Before the combined assaults of both the Draskian and the Torran armies the Akonite forces were being overwhelmed and destroyed. All around him his men were being killed and Demos saw his dreams of empire dying with them.
Then his eye fell upon a familiar, hated figure and he howled with fury. There at the forefront of the Torran army was a mightily muscled savage who fought with deadly, ferocious skill. Each slash or thrust of his sword claimed yet another Akonite life as he forced his rearing warhorse in among his enemies. It could only be that accursed barbarian Asgoleth.
Demos snarled his anger as he hauled the heavy mass of the Deathbringer around to face his hated foe. If he could but unleash one bolt into the barbarian’s mighty heart then his looming defeat would not be complete.
The heavy weapon resisted his efforts and he turned to snarl at his aides for assistance. The words died on his lips as he saw that he was alone. All of his aides had fled or had been slain by the arrows of the enemy. Soon their cavalry and infantry would sweep over his position and he would be caught between two enemy armies. He felt the grim spectre of death