The fury of Olgoth
The heads of the men around the fallen Kira were being crushed like grapes under the feet of cattle, by Olgoth’s broadsword. Olgoth seeing his son on the ground filled him like a man possessed with demon like rage. First three or four, then ten, then twenty bodies built the mound the warrior, drenched in blood, stood atop.
Perceval was furiously cutting down the king’s horse soldiers when horns sounded for retreat.
“Lord they are retreating we are winning.”
“Look around you fool our blood and theirs paints the ground red, it is a kindness they are doing so we can bury our dead and fight again.”
Perceval caught the site of Olgoth clutching Kira atop the mound of bodies and ran towards them.
“Get away cousin, if he dies i will send you to the next life to find him.”
“I I I ammm alright it was only a scratch it was that club that knocked me for a sleep.”
Olgoth grabbed his son and spoke sternly, “You have to let her go son, Mardy is dead.”