use. There was no one to stop the rage this time, no one at all.
One of the men rushed at him with a sword in his left hand, arm outstretched. “That won’t do,” he thought. Legon moved forward and roared as he swung the huge cleaver up. It made contact with the man’s left armpit, passing through cloth and flesh with ease. He felt the blade jerk as it separated the joint, making a crunching, slurping sound. The rest of the tendons and ligaments cut with ease. The blade went in shiny and silver and came out red and with bits of bone and flesh stuck to it. The man screamed as his arm fell to the ground followed by its owner, bleeding everywhere, slicking the rocks and turning the dirt to mud. He only got flashes of the fight the others were in before two more men came at him. Maybe it was the surprise of the attack or perhaps the ferocity of it, but the royal guard seemed to be outclassed.
As the next guard approached him he lashed out, swinging at the man who dodged and parried with his sword. The man aimed a stroke at his head but was deflected by the cleaver. This thing was not a battle ax, and even if it was Legon had no idea how to use it. He needed to end this fight fast. His opponent was gaining ground and his companion was soon to join. As the soldier brought his sword back, Legon slammed into him with his shoulder, making him slip in the bloody mud. As he fell, his companion ran forward wildly. Legon side stepped and as the man passed him, swung the cleaver high above his head and brought it down on the passing man. During their fun the soldiers had removed their helmets, and the man’s skull didn’t do much to stop the blow. There was a thudding sound as the metal passed effortlessly thought the brain and neck, then along his spine, popping ribs from vertebra just like it would in every other animal. It stopped about a foot into the man’s upper body. He turned on his heel, pulled out the blade with a squelching noise and brought it down on the man that had fallen. He tried to raise his arm to protect himself, but there was just a slight jolt as the cleaver cut through his forearm and a crunch as it buried itself deep in the man’s chest.
* * * * *
“He’s going to rape me,” Sasha thought.
There was no way it could be stopped, and all of the others were going to do it too. She tried to fight, but it just seemed to make him stronger. Her vision jarred as he slapped her. He was trying to part her legs and move up her skirt. He was so much bigger than she, and he was toying with her, enjoying the sport. Again he hit her and again this gained him ground. He was between her legs now and had her skirt up. His rough hand ran up her body, under her shirt, grabbing and feeling her. His hand went down to his pants. She could feel the rough fabric against the insides of her thighs as he tried to get them off. His breath stunk. Yellow teeth glinted back at her from his wicked grin.
She was talking but she wasn’t sure what she was saying. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. Fear was ripping through her, along with humiliation. She looked over at Legon and Kovos. He was going to make them watch—they were all going to watch. Both men were a blur though the tears, but she saw the murder in their eyes, both so close and yet neither could save her. If only she could have an episode. Then at least she wouldn’t have to be awake for this.
Something warm sprayed her face. She tasted metal. She looked up at the man. There was an arrow shaft growing out of his neck; blood came from it like a fountain. He was falling forward on her, but there was movement, something off to the side.
There was noise all around, but somehow she didn’t hear it. She rolled the man off her and looked to see Legon running forward with a meat cleaver. She jumped as the cleaver severed a man’s arm. She turned her head and saw Kovos with a sword. He was fighting two men.