Chapter 18:

The sounds of clashing metal brought a dull ringing sensation to Isolde's ears that drowned out the screams and growls from the men around her. Saxons, Woads and Romans ran past her as she struggled to maneuver her way through the field and towards the wall.

Her small party, consisting of Maximus and some other soldiers that she trusted had arrived right after the first attack. She witnessed the skies light up in fire as the arrows of the Woads hiding in the forest had cut off the first Saxon flank from their main army. The smoke from the pig fat and oils were so heavy it stung Isolde's eyes. It was difficult to see who was an enemy and who was a friend.

She turned to Maximus whose sword was already drawn, "Alecto and his mother will most likely be hiding with the other villagers in the Great Hall. Take the men and find them. Keep them safe."

She paused and corrected herself, "Keep all of them safe."

"And yourself? How are you going to find your man in this mess?"

"Easy. Kill every Saxon I see – that will narrow my search."

"Be careful Isolde. I don't want to go back to Rome alone with the Bishop," Maximus replied solemnly. With a curt nod, the Roman soldier turned his horse and led the other soldiers towards the fortress.

Isolde brought her focus to her surroundings and narrowed her eyes through the thick black smoke. Bits of yellow and blue whizzed past her, as she clutched her sword tightly in her hand.

A flash of metal came at her, but her own arm moved even quicker to block the attack. She begun to move her legs in the intricate footwork she had come to master. The sword, which became her arm, moved with striking speed and strength that the Saxons proved no match for her.

Each collision of steel rang through her body. Saxon after Saxon, she fought her way through the battlefield, hoping to catch a glimpse of the knights. They were a strong opponent, but they lacked strategy and focus. They relied on brute strength to bring down their enemies, she observed.

A large pain sliced through her back, causing her knees to slightly buckle towards the ground. She hissed in pain, but knew better to check what damage had been done. Turning around she whipped her sword around to meet her attacker, but was met with a hard kick to the chest sending her body sliding across the mud and grass.

The Saxon growled at her as he slowly brought his ax above his head, preparing for the final blow. A heavy foot stomped on her chest prevented her from reaching her sword which was lying just out of grasp on the floor.

So this is it, she thought.

An arrow suddenly flew above her and struck the towering Saxon in the chest. The weight from his foot slightly lifted off Isolde's body, and she wasted no time to use her strength to push hers body out. Grabbing her sword from the mud, she sliced the neck of the Saxon, ending his life.

"Isolde!"

She turned around and saw Gawain running down the field to meet her. She gave him a curt nod, but was deeply relieved to see a familiar face on the battlefield. The fresh blood on Gawain's arm caught Isolde's attention. "Are you badly hurt?"

Gawain looked down at his shoulder and lightly touched it. "Just a scratch. What about you? He cut your back pretty good."

She had almost forgotten the pain that was seething down her spine, but shrugged it off. "Just a scratch,' she echoed.

"Did the Romans decide to help after all?"

She chuckled, "Not entirely. Alecto and his mother are somewhere in the fort. I have some men looking for him. Have you seen him?"

"Sorry, been kind of busy," he jested.

Their conversation was cut short when a pack of Saxons swarmed them, and no sooner Isolde and Gawain were reunited, they were quickly separated in lightning speed.

Time seemed infinite, and fighting didn't seem like it was going to end. The weight of her sword slowly became heavier and heavier in her hands as she brought down her weapon to the oncoming Saxons. The blood, mud and sweat had caked onto her face, while the strands of her hair had come loose from her braid. She was relieved to catch a glimpse of Galahad and Bors, who were fighting back to back, while she managed to catch the shadow of Lancelot through the fire and smoke.

Her heart sunk though, as she was unable to located Arthur or Tristan.

The determination to find them alive and fighting kept her energy up, and she pressed on through fighting and fallen men alike.

"Roman!"

She turned to her right and was faced with a towering figure draped in fur and leather – the largest Saxon she had seen yet. His eyes were not filled with fear, rage or hatred, but seemed hollow and indifferent and it sent shivers down her spine.

"I am no Roman," she seethed through her teeth.

They were now circling around each other, swords ready, waiting for the first to attack. It reminded of her sparing sessions with Marcus back in their Roman courtyard. "You drink their wine, eat their food, sleep with their men and clean up their piss. You're a Roman," he declared.

"What does it matter to you whether I serve the Romans? You'll kill me Roman or not."

He smirked and let out a low growl, "Or I could keep you as my pet."

Something inside Isolde snapped and she suddenly lunged towards the Saxon with full force. Their swords clashed with such force that Isolde let out a small scream as the pain vibrated throughout her bruised body. The Saxon once again taunted her, "Girls shouldn't play with swords."

He suddenly kicked her shin, sending her to the ground. Wanting to avoid the same predicament she was in earlier, Isolde immediately rolled over to her side right before the Saxon's sword sliced through the air and into the grass. Her sword had been thrown to the ground a few feet away from her, and decided against of retrieving it just yet. She drew two long daggers from her boots and twirled them in her hands.

"Children's toys," he sneered.

"I've killed men bigger than you with these little things," she taunted.

"Show me."

"Gladly."

Feeling a surge of adrenaline, Isolde danced around him blocking each attack with speed. The daggers were easier to control, though it didn't give her the same strength as her long sword. But she was quick on her feet, which gave her the advantage of confusing her enemies.

Her blade finally met resistance as it sliced through the Saxon's armour and drew blood on his side. She smiled, but dared not stop at her victorious momentum.

Her arm was suddenly stopped as he caught her wrist and tightened his grip so that she was forced to drop her blade. She seethed in pain as it felt like he was cracking her bones into a million pieces. At the corner of her eye, she saw another blade coming at her at such speed, she had no time to react or defend herself.

A sharp pain exploded on her side and a cry escaped on her lips. He deliberately took out the blade slowly and let loose of her, allowing Isolde to fall from the ground. Her hands went to her side, her blood slowly seeping between her fingers.

"Children's toys," he repeated. He walked over to her sword and began inspecting it, running his fingers along its edge.

"Sarmatian," he stated. "I think I'll keep this."

"Don't you dare," she spat. It took most of her strength to lift herself off the ground, as every movement began to feel heavy and slow. With one last ounce of strength, she reached behind her belt and threw a small dagger, which hit square in his shoulder.

The Saxon laughed as he retrieved the blade, acting as if it done nothing to him. "Foolish girl. Tell me, are you afraid of death?" he mocked.

He brought his sword once more above his head, and began to walk towards Isolde to give her the final blow.

She yelled at herself to move or fight, but her body would not listen to her anymore. Instead, her legs collapsed beneath her, bringing her to the ground once more.

"Death is... always the victor..." she whispered and she closed her eyes.

"Isolde!" a voice called out from a distance.

I know that voice, she said to herself.

She turned her head, but only saw chaos and fighting. Woads, Saxons, swords, axes and blood began to blur as she struggled to find him amongst the battlefield. A body mass suddenly appeared in front of her, blocking the Saxon's attack. She heard the swords collide, but failed to see who the Saxon was fighting now. The blood she was losing was causing Isolde's vision to blur, and she could do nothing but lie on the muddied ground in pain. The sounds from the cries and grunts of men slowly became muffled, and a voice in her head began calling out to her.

….You are never alone, Isolde.

….Promise me you'll love no one other than me.

…Aren't you afraid of death?

…Death is always the victor.

And then the world went black.

A/N: Short chapter, I know! But it needed to stand alone.