The giant barbarian rushes me with his huge hammer held in a cross guard, shit he's gotten faster. Much faster than he should be after this long a fight. I'm tired, hot and sweaty. But I love to fight, father made sure of that.

 

As he gets close it’s his shaft and pummel that rush me, closing my space. I do a quick combination of a left right cross stroke and am quickly deflected. His current grip and positioning making deflecting quicker. He has good footwork as well.

 

To the untrained eye it looks like he has just planted himself in front of me and is standing solid like a mountain. But the man is crowding me. Using his hammer like a staff, with the head held up and the shaft moving quick to deflect left and right as I slash. I aim for his gauntlets and I watch a finger eventually fly off but this Om seems unfazed. Seeming to hardly having had noticed even.

 

As I move around him or take a step back he either leans to the side or takes a step forward. His single stride always keeping him too close, always keeping me crowded. I use my lighter and athletic style and do acrobatic kicks and sweeps. Doing absolutely nothing to move him with my best effort. Kicking him is like kicking a 280 pound sandbag.

 

I get a few more nicks at his arms and side with his leather armour doing nothing to stop my blade. The Damascus honed steel keeping a keen edge while my looted blade does less damage. We exchange a few more blows, me circling and spinning around him. Him an immovable mountain with superhuman stamina and strength barely moving but effectively eating up the space between us. To be able to handle a war hammer like that consistently... Maybe it’s a spiritual weapon and has little weight to him.

 

He keeps moving into me as I try to retreat, not giving me a breath. His silence unsettling as my laboured breathing must be heard from across the field. I hear the call to retreat as it's sounded around us. But I can't retreat he won't let me.

 

I fake another stumble out of habit though he hasn't taken advantage of any yet, most men I fight or spare with take the openings. Not expecting it to be a feign and swiftly find themselves missing a limb. To my surprise and excitement he takes it. Bringing his hammer down for the first time since he rushed me.

I dodge it completely and swing with a roar and all my strength towards his exposed side. The reverse swing of a hammer is slow, to miss a swing is to be injured badly. At least that's what I expect.

 

Somehow he spins his body with the momentum of the swing and I leave a shallow cut on his side as an elbow rushes my face.

*

 

 

Darkness takes her as teeth, blood and spittle go flying out. She is unconscious before she hits the ground. Her swords clatter besides her. I finish my move and look at her. Good fight, worthy of a clean death. I lift my hammer up and bring it hard on her skull.

 

[KRAAA], crushing it into paste with a wet squishing sound.

 

I lift my head and look around, waiting for more blood to be spilt. The Sandie's are fighting a retreating battle and they are paying for it. The mages nowhere to be seen but horses can be heard in the distance, probably reinforcements. I'm proven correct by the horn signalling us to retreat. We roar our challenge as we pull back the injured and grab any spiritual weapons within reach.

 

They mostly allow this, the few that try to fight us or challenge our retreat quickly find themselves fighting overwhelming opposition. We step back slowly as the Seers cause a mist to form, shrouding us. Making it more difficult for the horsemen to harass our retreat.

 

Just before we reach the cover of a few trees the horsemen fall upon us. Shouting their outrage and bloodlust into the cool Tundra air. The horses themselves are unstoppable and so most of us dodge the ragged line of pursuing horses.

 

But even as we dodge the horses the horsemen swing down with long blades or spears that would be impractical for anyone not mounted. The ensuing fight is bloody but brief. Only 16 tribesmen dying from the first pass.

 

I dodge a sword blow to my shoulder and attack the horse with a quick underhanded swing to the head. It dodges as it looks at me with intelligent eyes moving away from me despite its rider, and lifting its front legs to keep me away.

 

I swing and throw my hammer. Taking the rider in the chest and unseating him with a sound of snapping ribs. The horse neighs and rushes me, shoulder charging me as I try to roll away. Dislocating my shoulder immediately as I fly and land with a roll. Fuck, I'm tired.

 

The other horsemen are now retreating after inflicting more casualties on us. A retreat can easily turn into a route but if it doesn't, it can just as easily turn into a struggle to the death. Something the Sandies have learnt can be very costly to them. It takes a lot to kill a berserker.

 

I walk up to the beast as it tramples an injured tribesman underfoot. Shattering his leg with a sick snapping sound, his screams cutting off as it tramples his chest caving it in. The creature is panicking as it looks around. Challenging any that move too closely. Our eyes meet again and I can see the confusion, panic, anger and intelligence in the huge majestic creature.

 

The mix of innocence and determination is almost child-like, I recognize a kinship to the creature. For I am also big, strong and people assume I'm dumb because of my silence. Something far from the truth of who I actually am.

 

I lift my still moveable hand to appease the beast. It neighs and prances and stomps. Threatening me as only a 800 pound four-legged creature with iron-plated hoofs can, leaving deep indentations on the ground. The Sandies are mostly fully pulled back to 'let' us retreat.

 

I move towards the horse slowly, right arm empty and raised. Left-arm dangling uselessly. I move until my hand is close enough for it to smell me. Everyone around us gives us space. It is known what these horses can do. Even their dying kicks are devastating.

 

I stay like that for about a minute, moving forward when it pulls backwards. It looks around, seeing an opening it runs full tilt north. Away from the rest of its herd. Towards the Dawn.

 

"That was stupid," someone says to my right. I take my eyes off the beast reluctantly and find a familiar face looking at me.

 

"How have you been Om?" Dee says as he clasps my shoulder, I grunt and nod. Meeting his eyes and quickly moving away to look for my hammer.

 

"How have you been?" I ask over my shoulder even as I move away. Divina has been encouraging me to talk more. I don't mind practising on Dee. He understands most of my odd ways by now.

 

I find my weapon by the Sandie I unhorsed. Still alive but with blood bumbling in his mouth. Drowning in his own blood, most likely a punctured lung. I grunt as I unsheathing my knife and slit his throat. Cleaning my blade on his cloak, then returning to Dee with a hammer in hand and intentions to find a horse.

 

An Awakened horse if I didn't miss my guess.