Tom Lloyd - The ragged man

– until it was suddenly jerked back by the head, almost losing its footing entirely. The minotaur had somehow managed to hook one of its curling horns on a low branch, and while Litania giggled in malicious delight, Daken stabbed the beast through the armpit. The spike went all the way in, driving towards the creature's lung, but he didn't hang around to see if the blow was mortal; he tugged out the weapon and chopped at its ribs, gashing through the minotaur's thick flank.

The monster reeled from the impact, wrenching its head violently enough to splinter the thick branch, but still unable to disentangle itself. Blood poured from its wounds; Daken realised they were both grave, but the beast was not yet dead. One spearman got too close, and it smashed him in the back so hard his spine crumpled.

Daken moved further around the minotaur, glancing over his shoulder to check there were no Chetse waiting to do the same to him, then raised his axe high above his head and stabbed the spike into the beast's neck. It grunted and squealed in pain, ripping the branch from the tree trunk, but as it turned on him it got three spears almost simultaneously in the back.

Daken hoisted his axe again and hacked furiously at the minotaur's face, cleaving it open. The beast arched its back and as it began to fall, Daken threw himself bodily at the toppling beast and delivered another enormous blow to its face before its shoulders hit the ground.

He looked up to discover he was standing on the minotaur's shuddering stomach, now slick with blood, while the beast heaved its last breath and his soldiers watched in horror.

'What's wrong with you lot?' he rasped, throat tight as the bloodlust coursed through his body. 'Not enjoying yerselves yet?'

Doranei punched forward with his shield, not even seeing what he caught, and swung his black broadsword blindly. He felt it part armour and continue through flesh, followed by a cry of pain as he yanked the sword back and felt the attacker fall away. He paused to gulp air, while the Land seemed to recede from around him. Cocooned by screams and the clash of metal, Doranei found his eyes drawn to the neat arcs of spattered blood on the inside of his shield, each one curving around his closed fist but leaving his glove unstained.

The King's Man was still staring at his fist when something smashed into the side of his head and black stars burst before his eyes. Doranei crashed sideways and collided with someone's legs, bringing them down too. He flailed drunkenly at the figure lying across him, unable to see through the blur in his eyes. He dropped his sword, got one arm underneath the man and pushed up. His vision cleared as the weight was lifted from his chest and he recognised, Daratin, a young Brother, who'd fallen on him.

Daratin had barely got to his feet when a Menin spear slammed into his chest, straight through his armour, and Doranei watched in horror as his mouth fell open as he was driven back. The scream was cut short as Daratin's knees gave way and he collapsed. Still holding the spear, the Menin soldier heaved his way into view, shield raised high to ward off a blow from Veil. Doranei scrabbled on the ground for his sword, but Coran was already leaping to his rescue.

The big white-eye charged past Veil, roaring like an enraged lion, and smashed his mace down onto the Menin's shield. The man crumpled under the terrific impact, his arm and shoulder shattered, and fell at Coran's feet. The white-eye stamped down on his spine and Doranei heard a wet crunch as he struggled up, pushing himself forward to protect Coran's side as the white-eye raised his mace once again.

Completely indefatigable, Coran hammered his mace onto another Menin head and Doranei saw the neck snap under the force of the blow, but such was the white-eye's speed he struck the next Menin barely a second later, and felled him too.

Doranei looked over the rampart. It was a chaotic mess beyond their lines, the Menin and Chetse enemy advancing steadily behind their large shields, through a rain of arrows and blows. He chanced a second pause to check on the king, and saw his monarch was striking and dodging with the deftness of a duellist, red sparks bursting from the impact whenever his enchanted axe met steel. On his other side was Suzerain Derenin, the burly lord of Moorview Castle, and the veterans in his service, all fighting furiously for the families who'd refused to be sent away and now waited to tend the injured.

As Coran backed off to return to his place in King Emin's lee, Doranei punched at a Chetse with his shield, catching the man a glancing blow on his shoulder and knocking him off-balance. A second Chetse saw the opportunity and jumped up, one foot on his comrade's back and the other against the gouged earth rampart. Doranei swung at the man but missed and had to turn his sword horizontal to take the impact of the man's axe. The magical weapon met force with force, cutting into the axe-head and absorbing most of the blow.

Doranei didn't waste time being surprised, he wrenched the sword back and tugged the axe from the Chetse's hands; his second strike across the man's face cut bronze helm, flesh and bone with equal ease.

From overhead a pair of steel grapples dropped down right in front of him, catching on the logs supporting the rampart; he cut through the rope of one quickly enough, but before he could get to the other, one end of the log was dislodged in an explosion of earth and tugged towards the Menin lines.

He watched a small trail of soil patter down onto his boots, and it momentarily increased as the ground shook beneath him. Doranei sensed everyone hesitate, and for a half-second silence fell as a heavy reverberation ran forward across the moor. On both sides the men of the Brotherhood recovered quickest and ran through their opponents, but most eyes were on the tremor shuddering through the Menin ranks. A great tearing sound rang out as a circle of ground thirty yards across dropped suddenly away beneath a tightly packed Menin legion, taking a hundred or more men with it.

Doranei blinked. A great cloud of dust had been thrown up, and in the middle, a sudden blazing light erupted and through the swirl he saw a tall figure in brightly coloured robes, standing with arms outstretched where there was no ground to stand on. Spinning bands of light raced from each hand to the air underneath him and with a flourish the mage started moving backwards. He staggered slightly as he reached firm ground again, but he was otherwise unharmed.

'That fat bastard better step up the pace!' Coran growled as he smashed through yet another shield.

Doranei didn't waste time agreeing. The battle hadn't been raging for long, barely a quarter of an hour, he'd guess, but that was only Coran's second attempt, and they were badly outnumbered here. Whatever their advantages of position, their losses weren't so easily replaced on the line.

The sudden heavy beat of drums from the back of the Menin line sparked a flicker of hope in his heart. At first nothing happened, but then the call was taken up and the attackers edged backwards, away from the reach of the Narkang weapons. Once disengaged, they wasted little time in turning and heading for the gaps between the men of the second rank.

'Hold the line,' King Emin shouted hoarsely, Suzerain Derenin repeated it more loudly, and immediately the order was shouted from all sides. Doranei looked at the men standing with him as someone dragged dead Brother Daratin out of the way. No one showed much inclination to pursue the enemy; the sight of Narkang bolts taking them down as they fled was enough for most. The battle was far from won, but they all knew a pursuit could mean it lost soon enough.

'Enjoy it, brothers!' King Emin shouted after a mouthful of water. 'Enjoy the sight. They're not used to this! You're the first to drive them back – and that won't be the last lesson we teach Lord Styrax today!'