A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor

And still, the Yarmdon were rampard, men were all around him. Even with Jok fallen, there was still half their number left, and Beam's consciousness was threatening to flicker out at any moment.

That was, until, the cheer rang out.

URAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!

AWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Various cries rang out across the village, as the villagers bellowed out their victory. Their voices came out with the strong force of a gust of wind, billowing the already flagging morale of the Yarmdon. The men's shoulders crumbled, and strength left their weapons. Their eyes glazed over, and they entered a combat that was not aimed at victory, but at glorious death.

Far from defeated, they seemed to grow even more dangerous.

But Beam's sword was unforgiven. Even as his shoulder, and his back bled, and his wrist was numb from all the striking, he still managed to summon the same force that he had charged in there with. His men were unified, exalted, overcome with victory, the strongest they had been.

The enemy, in contrast – though they'd hardened their hearts – they'd lost the solid rock that was their foundation. They had nothing to put their backs against, their structure fragmented and shattered, until each man found himself alone, lost in a sea of villagers, attacking from all sides.

Within the span of a few short moments, their numbers were more than halved. It was an absolute slaughter. The more the Yarmdon fell, the more exalted the villagers grew, and the more their superior numbers proved to be effective.

Beam took a moment to draw in a breath, before moving towards the last straggling groups of Yarmdon, to finish them off once and for all – that was when the axe came for his head. Read exclusive adventures at m_v-l'e|m,p-y r

"BEAM!" A cry out. A familiar voice. A voice he used to hear after many hard days digging holes merely to survive. He'd heard it, and a second later, she was in front of him, as though to smile.

He squinted at her through unfocused eyes, hardly able to register her hand as he snaked out to push him in the chest.

Suddenly, her purple dress was sprayed a deep red, as it was cut straight through by a mighty axe.

Within an instant, a span less than a moment, she was dead. As she fell, there wasn't even an ounce of struggle in her, as though she had achieved everything that she had intended to, and there was nothing more for her to fight for.

Looming behind her body was the largest man that Beam had ever seen.

He shot off his backfoot without even thinking. He needed no time to process what was happening. There were around fifty Yarmdon still alive and kicking, perhaps even less. Beam's men were still struggling with them. Even as he saw a dear friend cut down in front of him, he was allowed no room to pause, for his fate was the fate of the group – he had to move on their behalf. That meant no hesitation.

Beam leapt, guiding his strike towards Gorm's shoulder. The man flicked his wrist, and his battleaxe snaked out at blistering speed. He didn't even bother to defend against the strike – he seemed confident that he could kill Beam before it even landed.

It was like an illusion snaking at him. Had Beam not lived with a daily dizziness for so long, that would have been enough to kill him. But his eyes were different to a normal man's now. He didn't track patterns the same as them – he tracked motions, the barest minimum of information that he needed in order to process the world without the dizziness growing overwhelming.

It was Ingolsol that had inflicted that on him, thinking it a curse, but it was Ingolsol that saved his life then.

The Dark Lord cackled.

"Sweet despair!" He cried. "At the moment of victory, the young bud is cut down!"

He cawed, seeming thoroughly delighted, but Beam could detect an anxiety to his tone. This, whatever it was that lived in Beam – it did not want to die.

Beam managed to catch Gorm's blade with his boot midair, enough to redirect himself, and then he flowed into another strike of his own, from that thoroughly off-balanced position, wild and goblin-like.

Gorm's eyes widened in surprise. "Oho… So this is what did my subordinates in," he said, as Beam's blade approached his neck.

His eye hardened then, and his aura intensified. "BUT THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN YOU AND I IS FAR TOO VAST!" He roared. He seemed to stop Beam's attack on sheer will, for Beam's eyes couldn't detect whatever had parried it.

The boy flew off to the side. His eyes were focused on his own battle, but his senses were attuned to what was going around him. The numbers were dropped. Twenty Yarmdon were all that remained. Gorm's appearance had been too little, too late, he could feel it.

Gorm noted that too, it seemed.

"STEADY YOURSELVES!" He barked, that great Commander, with so many legendary victories under his belt. Life returned to the eyes of the men that had not yet seen him, as they returned from the jaws of death, with fresh acclaim for victory.

Their morale soared, but there were still only twenty of them.

Gorm looked towards the end of the road, as Beam slowly got back to his feet. Beam found himself looking in the same direction as the giant. If it had been a trick, then Beam would have died right then as payment for his elementary mistake.

But he could feel it, the approaching enemies, what remained of Gorm's army. They stomped down the road with a bellow, and a roar.

Finally, Beam's own men took notice. He could see the fire in them flicker for the first time in the whole battle. An attack from the flank was a crippling shot to morale – and they were thoroughly exposed to it now, disorganized as they were, seeking to drown out the last twenty of those Yarmdon men in their wave.

"SPEED!" Gorm called out, hefting his axe onto his shoulder. He turned back to Beam again, about to resume his battle, but once more he was distracted. Beam saw his eyes widen this time – there was surprise in there. Whatever it was had been outside the giant's expectations.

He dared to look once more, making the same mistake that he had before. He heard the screams, and he saw the turning of giant heads, as those Yarmdon reinforcements looked behind them.