Slowly the Calidorians approached, two men still on horseback in the lead. March lowered his head, his heart pounding. A black horse stopped in front of him and the rider spoke. “Raise your head, Brigant. Let’s see your face.”
March didn’t move, but replied in Calidorian, “Fuck you.”
“I said, raise your face.”
“And I said, fuck you.”
The man dismounted. As did another near him. They came toward March.
But at that moment, he heard a distant cry. The soldiers turned to look, and March raised his head to see the Wasps running as a group to the main Calidorian force that was massed on the edge of the battlefield. The Wasps were screeching and yelping for all they were worth.
“What the—” the Calidorian soldier began, but he never finished his question. Harold rose up and struck him, cutting through his neck. His head and body toppled in different directions as Harold shouted, “Attack!” But the boys were already rising up, leaping and screaming, moving so fast that the Calidorians, by comparison, seemed as if their feet were stuck in clay.
The soldier in front of March swung his sword, but March met the blow, and Rashford took the soldier out from behind. The Calidorian soldiers on the battlefield were already overrun, the ones on horseback being pulled from their mounts. It took only moments. Harold ran forward shouting, “To Thelonius! And to victory!”
The boys surged, heading toward the main Calidorian army. They leaped high over the outer rows of men to land farther inside the throng, cutting into heads, necks, and shoulders as they landed. It was chaos. Horses reared, men screamed, and, in the center of it all, the Wasps swarmed around Thelonius. Already a boy had leaped onto his horse, and another was clinging to his sword while Thelonius swung at boys below him. Then Thelonius disappeared from view, pulled down from his horse and lost in the melee.
March followed Harold as he slashed through the Calidorians.
Tiff shouted, “We have Thelonius! He’s ours.”
Harold hacked and whirled his way to the center of the mass of men, his sword fast and precise, until there were only boys ahead. The Wasps had Thelonius on his knees. Around them the fighting was petering out. Calidorians on horseback were still trying to break through, but the boys were protecting this circle.
Harold shouted, “Calidorians, I have your leader! I have Thelonius.” Then he put the tip of his sword to Thelonius’s neck and demanded, “Yield.”
Thelonius looked up at Harold and shook his head. “Never.”
“I thought you’d say that. But look around, Uncle. You’ve lost. My boys will kill all your men. You’ll all die for your country, and then it’ll be my country.” Harold lowered his sword and crouched down so he could see Thelonius’s face, or perhaps so Thelonius could see his. “I’ll let you have a way out, though. A noble way out. A way that gives you a chance. A slim one, but a chance. We settle this one-on-one. You against me. If you win, we’ll leave.”
Thelonius was obviously tempted.
“You’ll have to decide soon,” Harold said.
“Your word on it.”
Harold smiled. “My word of honor. My boys will leave if you kill me.”
March was sure that Thelonius didn’t believe Harold’s word and certainly didn’t trust that Aloysius would honor it, but, really, he didn’t have a choice.
Harold shouted, “Stop fighting, boys! We have a truce.”
The shout was taken up around them, and the last of the fighting abated.
Harold told the Wasps to release Thelonius and hand him a sword. “And give me my armor back, March. This will go down in history as a glorious fight, man versus boy.”
March helped Harold back into his armor as the Calidorians and Brigantines gathered around, each grouping to one side or the other.
Thelonius noticed March and stiffened. He called out, “So you’re here. Is this the side you’ve chosen, March? I was wrong ever to think well of you.”
“Was I right ever to think well of you?” March replied.
Thelonius didn’t reply but turned away. And March felt heavy in his heart. He knew Thelonius would die. It would be good to give him some words of comfort, at least to tell him that Edyon had escaped. But that was a luxury that March couldn’t afford to give; Thelonius would have to bear his own burden.
Thelonius and Harold walked to the center of the open circle: the man and the boy, surrounded by men and boys. The two princes held their swords up, walking round, each assessing his