Chapter Eight
First Wave
After their victory over Braxus and his Jun war party, Conan and his fellow sell swords organize the Akira into a clean up detail. They gather up the slain Juns, strip them of their weapons and armor, dress them up as farmers, and then impale them on wooden poles and position them along the perimeter like macabre scarecrows, adding to their decoys. Once the unpleasant business of setting up the decoys is complete, the celebrations begin. Music is played on instruments. Men, women, and children dance for joy. They tell stories about their involvement in the battle, often exaggerating the facts to make their part seem crucial to their victory. An odd practice considering everyone there had taken part or at least witnessed the battle, but such is the way of things. Malak is in top form, juggling and performing acrobatic tricks, slight of hand tricks and just plain acting silly. At one point he hands ten children each a head of cabbage, and then (using pantomime) instructs them to toss the cabbages into the air one at a time. The children do as asked, and Malak hurls his knives into the flying targets. Kura, Sawa, and a third Akira child all throw their cabbages into the air at once. Despite the unexpected challenge, Malak proves himself to be up to the task. In a blur of motion he hurls three knives at the three targets and hits every single one, the knife blades buried up to the hilt each time. The children are all delighted by the display. The farmer who grew the cabbages is far less so. "My cabbages!" he cries in dismay. Malak and the children all laugh as they gather up the vegetables and the knives and run off to find more mischief.
In the town square, the swords of Deathstalker and Red Sonja clash repeatedly in a virtual symphony of steel on steel. Deathstalker could not get the thought of Sonja's vow out of his head, and insisted on them fighting a duel. Purely non-lethal, of course, as there were still many Juns left to fight. However he'd be damned if he were to let her die without bedding her first. So he made the challenge. "Flats of the blades," he said, "First to be struck three times, or is forced to yield, loses." Thus far, neither of them has succeeded in getting past the other's defenses.
"Come on, you braggart!" shouts Madmartigan, "You wouldn't shut up about how you were going to bed the wench. . . His words, not mine. . . And now you can't even get past her defenses long enough to give her a slap on the rump!"
"I'm surprised you haven't challenged me!" Sonja calls back without missing a step in her deadly dance with the imposing gladiator, "I thought you were supposed to be the greatest swordsman who ever lived!"
"I am, my dear!" replies Madmartigan, "And had we met a few years ago, I would have taken you up on your challenge, and then taken you to my bed! But alas, I am now a happily married man. Married to a beautiful red haired warrior woman who is every bit as fierce and as skilled as you are. And if I were to ever stray, no sword, spell, armor, or shield would ever protect me from her wrath!"
"A man of honor surrounded by thieves?" she says, still clashing blades with Deathstalker as though her very life depends on it.
"I've always been a man of honor!" replies Madmartigan, "I just forgot for a little while."
"Less talking!" pants Deathstalker, "More fighting!"
The gladiator takes another swing at Red Sonja who, while sweating, is not yet winded. The red haired woman parries the attack with her own sword, and then with a deft twist and flick of the wrist, sends Deathstalker's sword flying. With lightning like reflexes, Sonja drops into a spinning leg sweep. The heel of her right foot catches Deathstalker's ankles with enough force to take his legs out from under him. He comes down hard on his back, forcing the air out of his lungs. He gasps in an attempt to get life giving air back into his lungs. By the time his breathing returns to normal, he has Red Sonja's booted foot planted on his chest and the point of her sword resting against his throat. The man holds his hands up in defeat. "I yield," he says.
Red Sonja graces him with a smile and then sheathes her sword and walks away. Deathstalker lays on the ground, admiring her backside as she walks off to find food and drink. "I hat to see her go," he says, "But I love to watch her leave."
The only member of the Akira that is not celebrating their victory is Kaylar. He politely encourages the others to participate, but he declines himself. Conan walks up to him, a cup of wine in one hand and a roasted chicken leg in the other. "Don't feel like celebrating?" asks the Cimmerian.
"They act as though they have won the war," says the old man, "When what they have truly done is bloodied a river full of piranha. A river that they must now wade across."
"You don't think that we can win against the Juns?"
"I question your tactics," replies Kaylar, "If the Juns come forty or fifty at a time, with your help we would defeat them. But by letting Braxus return to Karak and the rest of the Juns, we will be disturbing a hornets nest. One that will be emptied and on its way here shortly."
"Very true, on all counts," agrees Conan, "But we cannot wait for them to attack a few at a time in small groups. There will be a week of waiting between every attack. Time that your people will not be tending their fields. And the village defenses will not hold for multiple attacks. They will work for one, maybe two. If we had the time to build a proper wall around the town, that would be one thing. But we don't. We also have to consider your crops. Multiple attacks would mean multiple groups trampling your fields. Without sufficient time to recover, the Akira would go hungry this winter with or without the Juns."
"Perhaps," concedes Kaylar, "But we at least would have the knowledge that all future harvests would belong to us and not the Juns."
"And your lost women would remain lost," says Conan, "This way we empty the hornets nest, and then relieve it of its captives after we are done."
"Assuming that Karak takes the bait. He is more cunning than the Jun chieftains that had come before him. Not just an unthinking brute like others."
"Which is why it is important to anger him," counters Conan, "Even the most skilled tactician will tend to act hastily, make rash decisions, if sufficiently angered."
"And you think you will achieve this with Karak?"
"I pray that it is so."
"I pray that you are right," says Kaylar, "Else we are all dead."
"Such is life when you live by the sword," says Conan.
"I have seen both peace and war, Cimmerian," says Kaylar, "And believe me, I prefer the former."
"Yet it is the latter which makes the former possible."
"I just hope that my people can survive this," says Kaylar, "Not just physically, but spiritually."
"Those who adapt will survive," says Conan, "Those who cannot. . . ." he lets the sentence hang in the air.
Kaylar nods his head in understanding and walks away. Conan is right, he knows. The old man makes a concerted effort not to spoil the mood of the celebration. It is important to maintain a high morale in situations such as these. Walls can be battered down by crushed morale as easily as by the mightiest battering ram.
Miles away, Braxus rides his horse back to the Juns' Hidden Fortress. The horse doesn't move very well, as the arrow in its rump is causing it to limp terribly on its hind leg. Braxus himself is not much better. His skin has taken on a pale, sickly colour, and he is dripping in sweat. His perspiration has little to do with the warmth of the summer however. The Jun is slowly dying, and he knows it. None of the arrows that pierced him had struck any organs which would be immediately fatal. Neither had they opened up any major blood vessels, or if they had then the arrows themselves were preventing Braxus from bleeding out. Braxus had seen many wounds inflicted on the battlefield, and he was fairly certain he knew which arrow was killing him. The one in his lower back, next to his spine, had likely opened up his intestines. With every passing moment, bile was seeping into his bloodstream. It was a slow, agonizing death. A person with such an injury could live for days. And when Death finally claims him, it will be a blessing. He had left many men and women on the battlefield with such wounds. He delighted in the knowledge of their prolonged suffering. In fact, he preferred it over giving his enemies a swift and painless death. Such delicious irony that he himself should die of such a wound. He keeps his horse moving as quickly as he dares, for every bump of the horse's canter sends waves of agony through the Jun's entire body. He doesn't even rest the beast at night, making it walk in the darkness of the hour. He cannot afford rest, as any time lost could be the difference between living to tell Karak about the Beastmaster and his allies, and dying on the road. So he pushes on. So sick with fever is the Jun that he never even sees the eagle which has been following him. Braxus guides his horse through a veritable maze of twists and turns up the mountain, until he finally reaches his destination. Carved into the mountain stone are steps leading up to twin stone pillars. The pillars are carved to resemble giant stone snakes poised to strike. Between the two pillars is a set of heavy double doors. Carved into the doors is the symbol of two snakes coming together over a black sun, facing each other, yet with a single body being shared between the two.
A group of about a dozen Juns, who had been standing guard at the main doors, come running over to meet Braxus as he arrives. The powerful Jun slips from his saddle and into the arms of his fellow barbarians as injuries, fatigue, and fever overcome him. The other Juns gather up their second in command and carry him inside.
In an enormous chamber within the compound, nearly all of the Juns have gathered together for an evening of depravity and debauchery. Scores of Juns in various stages of undress are taking their pleasure with young women, most of them kidnapped from trade caravans or small farming villages like Akir. Some of the women struggle against their captors, resisting with all their strength as their bodies are being violated. Others have long since given up and just lay on their backs or get down on their hands and knees and allow the Juns to have their fun. There are Jun women here too. Their faces so hideous, their teeth so rotten, their backs so hairy, the only way one who is not a Jun could even tell them apart is by their bosoms. Some of the Jun men have their way with their own women as well as with those who have been captured. Unlike the enslaved women, the female Juns seem to enjoy their constant abuse at the hands of their men. Sitting on a throne of iron, decorated by the bones and skulls of men, Karak oversees the entire orgy. Sitting at Karak's feet, wearing nothing but a leather collar to which a steel chain is fastened, is Nanelia. Karak looks about the great chamber. They were lucky to have found this fortress in the mountains, though Karak doesn't care much for the snake motif in every chamber and hallway. It provided the remnants of the Jun Horde a safe place to recover from their disastrous assault on Aruk those years ago. It was also well stocked with weapons and armor, though long left unused. And as more Juns come to his side, as well as others of like minds, he will soon have an army large enough to crush all that stands before them underfoot. A smile creeps upon Karak's face, but vanishes a moment later as the main doors to the Orgy Chamber burst open and several of his men carry the barely conscious body of his second in command into the room and lay him down upon some furs. Karak grabs Nanelia by her leash and drags her across the room. He kneels beside the fallen Braxus.
"What happened?" demands Karak, "Who did this to you? Where are your men?"
"Dead. . . ." whispers Braxus, "All. . . . Dead. The. . . . Akira . . . Dug in. . . . Ready to. . . . Fight."
"A bunch of filthy farmers did this?" says Karak incredulously.
"Not. . . . Alone. . . . Had. . . . Help."
"Help? Who helped them? How many were there?"
"Beast. . . . Master. . . Had. . . . Friends."
"The Beastmaster?" says Karak, "Are you sure? Who were his friends? How many of them are there?" Braxus doesn't answer. His eyes stare wide open, but see nothing. "Braxus? Braxus! BRAXUS!"
"He's gone," says one of his lieutenants.
"Bring me everyone," says Karak, "We ride at first light."
"What do you mean, everyone?" asks the lieutenant.
Karak grabs the Jun by the throat and pulls him right up to his face. "I mean EVERY ONE!" he screams. "Every warrior we have. Every gray beard who is not yet too feeble to swing a sword or ax. Every boy strong enough to lift a spear. Have them all armed and armored in time to leave as the sun crests the horizon. I want the Beastmaster dead! His friends, dead! The Akira, dead! I don't want anything left of that pathetic little hamlet that even resembles a dwelling! We will trample their ashes into the Earth and no one will ever know that they had been there at all!"
"We haven't enough horses for that many men," protests the lieutenant.
"Then whoever cannot ride will have to run!" shouts Karak, "The Beastmaster stabbed my mother in the back on top of the Temple of Ar! And then he slew my father and threw his body into a burning moat! And now he's killed my second in command! I want his head on a SPIKE!"
"Yes sir!" says the lieutenant, and he runs to do as he was bid.
One of the other Jun lieutenants pull the arrows from Braxus' back. "These arrows were not made by any farmer," he says, "These were designed for combat, not hunting." Then he holds one of Subotai's arrows next to Deathstalker's. "These two were not fired from the same bow. This one has a longer, thicker shaft and heavier arrow head. It would take an extraordinarily large and powerful bow to be able to fire an arrow such as this. The other one, more typical of a bow from Aruk."
"So the Beastmaster has a couple of archers with him?" asks Karak.
"So it would seem," agrees the lieutenant, "Or at least one, while he is the other."
"I have never heard of him using a bow," says Karak, "He prefers the sword in combat."
"Two archers then," agrees the lieutenant, "Plus whatever animals that will come to his call."
"By all accounts, a tiger and an eagle at least."
"Then we shall dine well when all is done," says Karak.
The rest of the night is spent preparing for war. All of the mightiest Jun warriors mount up on horses, while all others prepare to run to Akir on foot. Old men, their hair wild and gray, muscles sagging with age, carrying swords and axes they have not wielded in battle for years. Boys no more than twelve years old, wearing helmets much too large for them, carrying spears with a noticeable lack of proficiency. They are all gathered with men who are clearly healthy, able bodied, and skilled warriors. The giant wooden doors to the fortress open up and the entire Jun Horde come pouring out. None of them notice the eagle soaring high above.
The Juns move out in a forced march. Those on horseback ride at a canter, while those on foot are made to jog along behind them. They take minimum rests for food and water, instead pushing on to the limits of their endurance. As night falls Karak orders them not to set up camp, but rather to push on. Their pace has slowed to a walk so as not to risk injuring their horses in the dark, but they press on. As day breaks they mount up once more and pick up the pace. They continue on like this until they are about half a day's ride away from the village of Akir. At this point they find several large trees had fallen across their path, at a point in the road in which the slope on either side of their path is too steep for their horses to navigate. The trees are very large, many decades old, and they had fallen so that the part of the trunk where the branches are thickest are directly across the road. As such the horses cannot simply jump over them, and the Infantry cannot simply climb over them. A quick investigation shows that these trees had been cut down deliberately.
"Clever," says Karak, "The Beastmaster knows that we Juns thrive on horseback. He put these here to slow our progress. Give the Akira more time to hone their defenses, while at the same time tiring our own warriors while they clear the road."
"So what are we going to do?" asks one of the Jun lieutenants.
"Clear the road of course!" shouts Karak, "This diversion will only delay the inevitable! In the end The Beastmaster, and every last one of the Akira, will perish!"
"Right!" says the lieutenant. Then he turns to the other Juns, "Those of you with axes, get chopping! The rest of you! Start hauling away whatever's been cut away!"
With a precision and discipline that any civilized army would admire, the Jun Horde get right to work. Axes designed to cleave flesh and bone are quickly put to use chopping into the fallen tree trunks. The older, gray haired veterans and the children who have yet to see battle use their swords and hand axes to hack away at the heavy branches in order to make the trees easier to move. Even with virtually every member of the Jun Horde working at it, it still takes several hours to clear the road. When the village of Akir is finally in sight, dusk has fallen.
The Juns find that the Akira have set the wall of kindling that surrounds the village alight. The green wood that is piled atop the kindling smolders, letting off great amounts of thick gray smoke which blankets the village. Karak nods his head in a mixture of admiration and understanding. "Very clever, Beastmaster," he says.
"I don't understand," says one of his lieutenants, a powerful warrior named Strabo, "Surely out horses can jump such a feeble wall, even if it is on fire."
"Not wise to try," says Karak, "See how the wall of flames is positioned just ahead of that wall of wooden stakes? If our horses were to jump the flames, they'd land right into those spikes, skewering themselves, and likely their riders. They may even stop abruptly just before the flames, throwing their riders clear across the wall of fire and into the waiting spikes. And the green wood is giving off a tremendous amount of smoke, obscuring our vision. Taking away the advantage of numbers, and disguising their decoys."
"What decoys?"
"Look at how many men are standing guard behind their second barrier," replies Karak, "There are more of them than there are male Akira in the village."
"Perhaps the Beastmaster has brought more friends than just the two archers and his animals," suggests Strabo.
"Perhaps," concedes Karak, "We won't know until we attack."
"And when are we to do that?" asks Strobo. Karak turns and glares at his lieutenant. Strobo nods his head in understanding, and then draws his sword. "CHARGE!" he cries, and spurs his horse into a gallop. Every Jun on horseback follows suit, charging down the main road towards the village. As the Juns who are on foot move to follow, Karak holds up a hand for them to halt.
"Wait!" he commands, and all of the Juns obey. Karak sits and watches his warriors' charge.
Strobo leads the charge down the road, more than two hundred Juns following close behind. With the wall of flames preventing entry on all sides except for this very road. Strobo smells a trap, but he doesn't dare disobey Karak. The road is wide enough for three men on horseback to ride abreast. The Juns come thundering into the village. Once three score Juns have crossed the threshold, Akira archers, led by Deathstalker on the right side of the road and Subotai on the left, stand up in the trenches and let fly their arrows and crossbow bolts. They aim for the Juns who are right in the gap of their burning wall of green wood. Several Juns and their mounts fall under the hail of arrows, tripping up the Juns behind them. This break in the charge gives the Akira a chance to block off the road. Like before, they wheel a couple of carts into the road, effectively barricading themselves in as well as trapping the Juns in the village with them at the same time.
The Akira archers spread out, shooting arrows at the Juns within their village as they are without. Deathstalker and Subotai leave the border defense to the Akira and join the fray in the streets. Both mercenaries run shoot arrows at the Juns while running towards the barbarians. Once they're within melee range, they both draw their swords. While the Juns have been bred for mounted combat, they still can't seem to counter the attacks of these two mercenaries. Strobo guides his men through the streets, hoping to take away some of the defenders' advantage.
The Juns stuck outside of the Akira's burning wall circle the village, shooting their crossbows at any target that presents itself. As Conan had predicted, many of these crossbow bolts found their way into the bodies of the decoys set about the perimeter, although a fair number also struck living Akira. The Akira shot back, but many of them were novices with such weapons and had trouble hitting moving targets. But enough Juns fell to Akira arrows for the act to not seem an act of futility.
As Strobo and his Juns go riding past a pair of houses with a low stone wall built in between them, Malak jumps up onto the low wall, knives in hand, and whips them into two of the passing Juns, killing them. A small group of about six Juns stop and look in the thief's direction. Malak places the tips of his thumbs to his temple's and wiggles his fingers, making a face at the invading barbarians. Had he still a tongue within his mouth, he would have blown a raspberry at them. The Juns wheel about and spur their horses into a charge at the thief. Malak turns and runs away from the charging horsemen. The horses easily clear the low wall, but too late their riders realize the trap that they had been baited into. A length of rope, blackened by rubbing soot into the fibers and difficult to see, had been strung up between the two houses. The Juns are clotheslined off of their mounts in mid leap, crashing down hard in the dirt. Several Akira come out from around the corner carrying wood axes, pitchforks, knives, even clubs. They fall upon the Juns before the invaders can even begin to recover from their fall. The Juns never rise again.
As Strobo and his horsemen ride into the town square, they see The Beastmaster waiting for them on one knee, his sword resting next to him, its tip stuck into the earth. Strobo leads a charge of his remaining horsemen at their most hated enemy. Dar closes his eyes and touches the minds of the horses telepathically. Many of the horses, including Strobo's, rear up on their hind legs, throwing their riders off. Red Sonja, Madmartigan, and Conan come charging out of several houses on either side of the town square leading a charge of armed Akira, including the young Shad. Deathstalker, Subotai, and even Malak come up from behind with still more Akira looking to stop the Juns.
Conan charges right into the invaders. The Cimmerian cuts down one just as he's regaining his feet after being thrown by his horse. Another Jun has already recovered and attacks Conan with his sword. Conan parries the attack and counters with a slash across the chest. Another Jun comes at the Cimmerian with a battle ax raised to strike, and Conan runs him through with his Atlantean sword. Another tries to skewer Conan with his spear, but the Cimmerian cuts the weapon's shaft in two and then separates the Jun's head from his neck.
Red Sonja is similarly successful in her encounters. A Jun warrior comes at her with a spiked mace. She ducks the attack, which was aimed at her head, and stabs the Jun through the gut with her sword. Another Jun comes charging at her with an ax. She pulls her blade from the barbarian's belly and uses the momentum to slash across the other Jun's chest, and then follows up with a slash across the Jun's throat. Another Jun attacks her with a sword. She parries the strike and counters with one of her own. He parries her attack and counters with a thrust. Sonja sidesteps the attack and then slashes him across the small of his back. He drops to his knees, his spine severed, and she runs him through the chest.
Madmartigan is a blur of movement. He slashes a Jun across the belly, moves past and runs one through the chest. A Jun comes at the knight with a flail whirling over his head. Madmartigan ducks under the attack, cutting the Jun's legs out from under him. Another Jun comes charging at Madmartigan with an ax. The knight pulls a dagger from his belt and hurls it into the Jun's chest, killing him, and in the same motion thrusts his sword through the heart of yet another Jun.
Deathstalker comes up to a Jun who is still on his horse with his sword drawn, and with his off hand he punches the horse right in the jaw. The animal goes tumbling down, taking its rider with it. The Jun gets to his feet just in time to be cut in half at the waist by the gladiator. A Jun charges Deathstalker with a spear, which he cuts in two before relieving the Jun of his head. Another Jun tries attacking Deathstalker with his sword in a downward slash. The gladiator parries the attack with his own sword, and then counters with a thrust. The Jun tries to block it with his shield, but the blade goes right through the metal and into the flesh behind it.
Subotai is a blur of movement, much like Madmartigan. His scimitar in one hand, a dagger in the other, he slashes and stabs his way through the Jun ranks. A Jun attacks the Hyrkanian with a sword. Subotai parries it with his scimitar, and then counters with a thrust from his dagger, stabbing the barbarian in the chest. As Subotai pulls the dagger from one Jun's chest, he turns and thrusts his scimitar into the belly of another, and then quickly slashes the Jun's throat with his dagger. As he pulls the blade of his scimitar out of the one Jun's belly, Subotai drops to a knee as he ducks another Jun's awing with a spiked mace. As the Jun steps past with the momentum of his swing, the Hyrkanian slashes him across the belly with his scimitar and then stabs him in the small of the back as he comes up behind him.
Malak stays out of the thick of things as best he can. While quite good with his knives and daggers, he has no armor to speak of, and his blades are too small to use to parry the heavy weapons of the Juns. Still, he wasn't about to let his friends down. Whenever an opportunity to hurl a knife into a Jun presents itself, he takes full advantage. And any Jun within arms reach who is foolish enough to turn his back to the thief soon regrets it. Malak has now exhausted his entire arsenal of throwing knives and is down to the twin daggers he keeps belted on his hips. The thief is looking for a Jun to backstab when one of them notices him from across the street. The Jun pulls his crossbow from his back and aims it at Malak. Malak sees the danger, but has nowhere to hide from it. He's out in the open with no cover anywhere nearby. Just as the Jun is about to pull the trigger, a rock sails across the square and hits him in the helmet. Both Malak and the Jun turn to see where the rock came from. Standing off to the side not too far from Malak, a leather sling whirling above her head, is the little Akira girl, Kura. "You leave Raggedy-Man alone!" she yells, "This is my home! Get out! Now!" She lets fly with another stone, which hits the Jun solidly in the forehead. Unfortunately his helmet is designed with a face guard, and the rock bounces harmlessly off. Kura sets another rock into her sling and sets it spinning.
The Jun swerves his crossbow away from Malak and takes aim at Kura. The girl courageously, or perhaps stupidly, stands her ground and continues to prepare to sling another stone at the invader. Malak flips a dagger over in his hand so as he's holding it by the blade and cocks his arm to throw it at the Jun. At the last second a horse wanders into Malak's line of sight, disrupting his throw. The thief lets out a primal yell as he runs towards the young girl. He dives at Kura just as the Jun pulls the trigger, putting his body between her and the oncoming crossbow bolt while pushing her to the ground. The bolt strikes Malak in the back, piercing his lung and slashing open a major blood vessel. Kura looks Malak in the eye, her concern for him made plain on her face. The thief smiles reassuringly at her, and then puts his finger to his mouth and makes a "shush" gesture, followed by him pantomiming playing dead. Kura nods her head in understanding and quickly plays dead. Malak clutches his daggers, waiting for the Jun to approach and make sure that they're dead. Each breath becomes more difficult than the last as the thief's lungs fill with blood. Malak finds his hands are having a harder and harder time maintaining their grip on his daggers. He silently prays to Bel, God of Thieves, that he will at least be able to stop this one Jun from harming that little girl before Death claims him.
The Jun has dropped his crossbow and pulled a battle ax from his belt as he walks across the square to where Malak and Kura lay. The Jun bends down and reaches out to roll Malak over onto his back, so that he might witness the fear in the thief's eyes as he ends his life. The second that the Jun's hand touches Malak's shoulder, Malak quickly rolls over and slashes the barbarian across the throat with his left handed dagger. The Jun's eyes widen in shock. He drops his ax and clutches his throat with both hands in a desperate attempt to stop the flow of his life's blood. A split second later, Malak rises to his knees and thrusts his right handed dagger into the Jun's belly, just below the sternum. The Jun instinctively drops his hands to his belly, grasping the hilt of the dagger sticking from his gut. The blood pours from his open neck wound as he collapses in the dirt road. Malak takes his left handed dagger by the blade with his right hand, preparing to throw it at one last enemy, but all strength has left his body and he collapses in the dirt, his dagger lying next to him.
Kura opens her eyes and sees Malak laying on the ground a few feet away. "Raggedy-Man?" she says. Malak doesn't respond. "Raggedy-Man?" she says again, this time a little more urgently. Still no responce. Panic begins to swell within her as she begins to crawl over to the thief. "No no no no no no no," she says as she scrambles over on her hands and knees. She begins to shake Malak's body in an effort to revive him. "No, Raggedy-Man" she says, "Don't die! Please don't die! Please! I promise, I won't call you Raggedy-Man anymore! Your name's Malak! Don't die Malak! Please don't die! Malak! Malak! MALAK! PLEASE MALAK! PLEASE DON'T DIE! PLEASE MALAK! DON'T DIE! DON'T DIE MALAK! PLEASE! PLEASE! PLEEEASE! MALAAAK!" Finally Kura just rests her head upon Malak's chest and sobs uncontrollably. And as Malak looks unseeing out into the heavens, his face has a serene expression of content.
Dar takes up his sword and heads straight for Strobo. The Jun lieutenant is a veteran of many battles, however, and has been riding and fighting on horseback since his earliest recollection. This was hardly the first time he had ever been thrown from his horse, and he recovered quickly. The Beastmaster tries a straightforward overhead downward slash with his sword, which Strobo parries with his own blade.
The Jun counters with a horizontal slash aimed at Dar's chest, which Dar in turn parries. Dar sweeps his enemy's blade aside and attempts a thrust to the heart. Strobo sidesteps the attack and attempts a horizontal slash aimed at Dar's neck. The Beastmaster takes a knee as he ducks under the swing, and then goes into a forward roll as Strobo attempts a downward diagonal slash.
Dar springs to his feet and heads straight at the Jun, making multiple attacks in rapid succession. Diagonal, horizontal, vertical, straight thrusts, right, left, down low, up high. In the span of a few heartbeats Dar has attacked Strobo from every conceivable side and angle. The Jun, to his credit, successfully parries every strike.
Strobo then thrusts his own blade towards Dar's heart. The Beastmaster sidesteps the attack and parries the blade in one fluid motion. Then, continuing the momentum, he pivots and steps behind the Jun lieutenant and slashes him across the back, severing his spine. The Jun's legs collapse beneath him as he falls to his knees. Then Dar grips his sword in both hands and decapitates the Jun.
The rest of the Juns are soon overcome by the defending Akira. While the barbarians are more battle hardened, the farmers are very tenacious. They are fighting for their lives and their homes, not for the avarice of others. And in all of nature, few animals are more dangerous than those who are cornered, or who are protecting their young. And the Akira are both. When the battle is over, the Beastmaster climbs up onto the roof of the tallest building in the village. He has Ruh with him, and he raises an arm and calls out to Sharak, who swoops down and lands on the leather gauntlet that Dar wears on one hand. With his other hand, Dar holds the severed head of the Jun lieutenant Strobo up into the air. He then tosses the head aside as though it were mere trash.
Not far away, watching the battle, Karak sees this and fumes in rage. The Jun Chieftain brings a horn to his lips and blows a powerful note, bringing his horsemen back to him. All the while he sits on his horse and glares at the Beastmaster.
Author's Note
Yeah, I paid a little tribute to Avatar: The Last Airbender in this chapter. I couldn't help it, the set up was just too good. And some of you might notice my little Mad Max reference by the little girl calling Malak "Raggedy-Man" (Tina Turner's nickname for Max in Beyond Thunderdome). Another tribute. As are the children's names (Kura and Sawa).