SECTION 21
I parry the first sword that slashes at me, and as I swing away from it, I manage to cut through the wrist that holds it. A minor victory, since the creature simply switches to another hand, but one that makes me realize these creatures can be beaten. “They bleed!” I shout at the top of my lungs, then steady my feet and swing once more. This time a hideous black head falls to the ground at my feet.
My heart pumps loudly now, and my spirits soar. I don’t know what chance I have in this battle, but in some ways I don’t care. No matter what the outcome, to have discovered at last this newfound joy I have, a joy in battle—in fighting for good—is worth even dying for. I swing my sword with strength, with confidence, with the knowledge that I will not be an easy victim for anyone or anything.
For Eric! my heart sings. For Father! And suddenly the face of my father, the face I have never seen but have long imagined, appears in my mind as I fight. The face is grim, and it is sad. But to me it looks proud as well, proud of the son who fights in his place, and that, too, spurs me on. This battle may be my last, but it will not have been in vain. I have seen my father. He has seen me.
But then I turn my head and see the toll on my comrades. Only four of us remain, against three of the creatures. Then another friend falls, and finally another, and now only Tom and I face the fury of three furious enemies. On we fight, our swords singing in the hot sun. We look at one another and smile, not because we are about to die but because we will die as we would have chosen. In battle. Against evil. Against the spawns of hell, or of Chaos, or perhaps of both.
A grotesque black hand smashes into my jaw. An unspeakably hideous face peers into mine. An ugly voice laughs, and its breath is vile beyond words. I reel, clutch at one last breath of air, and fall.
My eyes close as long, black teeth descend towards my face. Only a scream remains.
Turn to Section 29.