The fight between Aemon and the barbarian chief had turned into a storm of steel and blood. With every movement, the weight of responsibility and the terror of battle were palpable. Despite his basic fighting stance, Aemon was caught off guard by the barbarian chief's fury and speed. The blows were so swift and brutal they seemed to defy the strictest lessons of Sir Caldor.
— Do you think you can defeat me, boy? — snarled the barbarian chief, his words dripping with disdain. — I am forged in war, molded by death. I have nothing to lose, while you… you are just a pampered prince!
Aemon, panting, blocked another blow and replied through clenched teeth:
— I'm more than just a title. You'll see what I'm capable of.
The tension in the air was palpable. The guards watched in silence, the sound of their breathing mingling with the metallic clanging of the swords. One of them, holding Lyra carefully, murmured to the colleague next to him:
— He's fighting for us… For the kingdom… If he falls, we're all lost.
Lyra, still weak, tried to speak, but her voice was just a whisper:
— Aemon… You can do it…
The hostages, wide-eyed, watched the prince battle the giant barbarian. One of them, a woman who had recognized Aemon, turned to the others:
— He's risking everything for us… He… is Prince Aemon?
The barbarian chief let out a fierce laugh as he attacked Aemon with crushing force. With every blow, the sound of metal clashing echoed like dark thunder, and the prince felt his bones tremble with the impact.
— Give up, boy! — shouted the barbarian, delivering another devastating strike. — You are no match for me!
Aemon, even feeling the weight of every blow, did not retreat. He countered, his words becoming a defiant shout:
— If I fall, it won't be without a fight. Don't underestimate my determination!
The atmosphere was charged with suspense. Each clash between Aemon and the barbarian chief carried the weight of everyone's fate. The sounds of bones breaking, flesh being torn, and weapons colliding created a macabre symphony that enveloped all around. The suspense grew, each second dragging on like an eternity, as everyone awaited the outcome of this grim battle.
The battlefield was engulfed in a disturbing silence, interrupted only by the desperate cries of children, the muffled sobs of women, and the macabre sound of the barbarians banging their weapons on the ground. Aemon was bloodied, his armor partially destroyed, and no one knew what kept him on his feet. His movements were slow, his strength nearly depleted, but his determination still shone despite the pain and fatigue.
The barbarian chief, with a cruel smile, looked at Aemon and said with disdain:
— Look at you, prince. You're in pieces. It's a pathetic sight. You can barely lift your sword.
The mage, watching the scene with a look of pure delight, spoke with a wicked smile on her lips:
— Look at how they fight… So much brutality, so much triviality. It's almost poetic, don't you think? — she said, turning to the barbarians accompanying her.
One of the barbarians replied, banging his weapon on the ground in support of the chief:
— Our leader will not lose. He will crush this prince and all who dare challenge our power!
The barbarians, encouraged, began banging their weapons on the ground, the rhythmic and threatening sound reverberating across the battlefield. The guards, even without words, felt fear growing in their hearts. One of them, eyes fixed on the fight, murmured:
— Come on, prince… Don't fall now… We're all depending on you…
The fight continued, and each blow between Aemon and the barbarian chief seemed to carry the weight of everyone's fate. The clash of weapons and the sound of bones breaking created a tense and oppressive atmosphere, with every movement of Aemon and every blow of the barbarian chief marking the difference between life and death. The battlefield was immersed in unbearable tension, with the hostages, the guards, and the barbarians watching every movement with a mix of hope, fear, and cruelty.
As Aemon grew weaker and amid a storm of pain and despair, he began to formulate his plan in his mind. While being pummeled continuously, his thoughts were focused on the gunpowder he had strategically placed around the battlefield. The plan was risky, but it was his only chance to turn the tide of the fight and save the hostages.
Mage (observing with a cruel smile): — It seems the prince has resigned himself to his fate. The pain and helplessness are a delight to watch.
Barbarian Chief (with a tone of contempt): — Crawl, prince. There's nothing left for you to do but crawl to your final defeat.
Guard 1 (shouting, with a tone of desperation): — Aemon, don't give up! It's not just a duel. It's our destiny! Fight for us!
Child Hostage (crying, with a desperate look): — Prince, please don't give up!
Mage (raising the fireball, with a calculating look): — Prince, if you don't get up now, I'll launch this fireball at the guards and hostages. What will it be, prince? Your life or theirs?
Aemon, feeling the pressure and desperation, began to crawl towards Lyra's sword. Every movement was torture, but he knew he had to follow through with his plan. In his mind, he decided to initiate what he had planned.
While being beaten continuously, he crawled towards the gunpowder he had spread around the camp. He was determined to bring the battle to where he could ignite the gunpowder and create an explosion that, if successful, could change the course of the fight.
The barbarian chief, impatient and satisfied with the scene of despair before him, turned to the mage and said with a challenging tone:
— Show him what true pain is. Let him see what it means to face a real warrior.
The mage, still laughing with coldness, lifted the fireball higher, as if ready to unleash destruction at any moment. The tension was palpable, and the dark atmosphere enveloped everyone as Aemon crawled, each movement a desperate struggle for survival and a chance to save others.
With Aemon weakened and amidst a storm of pain and despair, he began to formulate his plan in his mind. As he was continuously beaten, his thoughts were fixed on the gunpowder he had strategically placed around the battlefield. The plan was risky, but it was his only chance to change the course of the fight and save the hostages.
Mage (observing with a cruel smile): — It seems the prince has resigned himself to his fate. The pain and helplessness are almost poetic.
Barbarian Chief (with a tone of contempt): — Crawl, prince. You have nothing left but to crawl to your final defeat.
Guard 1 (shouting, with desperation and hope): — Aemon, you can do it! It's not just a duel. It's our fate! Fight for us!
Child Hostage (crying, with a fearful look): — The prince is trying something. We don't know what, but we must believe he can save us!
Mage (lifting the fireball, with a calculating look): — Prince, if you don't get up now, I'll turn everyone here into ashes. Let's see if your pride is enough to save these poor souls.
Barbarian Chief (with an intimidating tone, as he tries a powerful strike): — Prepare to feel true pain! There's no place for mercy on this battlefield!
Aemon (with a determined shout, as he continues to move the sword): — If I fall today, it will be for a cause. The fate of us all is at stake. There is no turning back now!
The clash of attacks and the sound of weapons against the ground created a tense and oppressive atmosphere, with each movement of Aemon and each blow of the barbarian chief marking the difference between life and death. The battlefield was immersed in unbearable tension, with the hostages, the guards, and the barbarians watching every movement with a mix of hope, fear, and cruelty.
With the gunpowder finally positioned as Aemon had planned, he continued his deadly dance, his sword now visibly worn. The barbarian chief's immense and cruel axe delivered a devastating blow that shattered Aemon's sword into pieces. The sound of the metal cracking and breaking echoed across the battlefield, and an astonished silence fell over everyone.
Barbarian Chief (looking at the broken sword, with a triumphant smile): — The fight is over. There's nothing more you can do. Now, it will be your final hour.
Mage (with a tone of cruel amusement): — Finally, the prince is unarmed. It's time to end this. But remember, keep him alive. I want to see him suffer a little longer.
The barbarian chief, with a look of disdain and impatience, approached Aemon. His presence was oppressive, and every step seemed to foretell imminent death.
Barbarian Chief (with a threatening voice): — Did you really think you could defeat a warrior like me with a simple torch? Prepare for the end, prince.
Aemon, with his strength almost depleted, looked at the torch he had picked up. It was a simple object, but he knew his plan was not yet complete. With a tremendous effort, he stood up, the torch trembling in his trembling hand. The barbarians around laughed, thinking the scene was a cruel joke.
Barbarian 1 (sneeringly laughing): — Look at this! The prince has a torch, as if that could save his life!
Barbarian 2 (mockingly): — What does he think he's going to do with that? Burn the barbarian chief? What a joke!
Mage (with a cruel smile and growing excitement): — Oh, I'm loving this! Watch him try to make a last act of theater. Get ready to see a spectacle of defeat.
The barbarian chief, noticing the torch and what seemed like a desperate act, laughed with disdain. He moved closer, preparing to deliver the final blow.
Barbarian Chief (raising his axe): — If you have anything to say, do it now. This is your last chance.
With one last breath of strength, Aemon threw the torch with a quick movement, not toward the chief, but to the spot where the gunpowder was spread. The moment seemed to stretch as the torch flew through the air.
Mage (eyes widening in surprise): — What's happening? No...
The instant the torch hit the gunpowder, a deafening and devastating explosion erupted, filling the battlefield with a wave of heat, fire, and smoke. The sound of the explosion was like the roar of an enraged beast, and a shockwave swept across the area, tossing barbarians and debris in all directions.
Screams of panic and horror filled the battlefield. The flames engulfed everything around, and chaos ensued. The hostages, terrified, crouched down, while the guards tried to protect the civilians. The mage, with a look of shock and frustration, was thrown by the force of the explosion, her plans interrupted.
Mage (screaming with anger and despair): — No! This can't be happening!
Barbarian Chief (trying to protect himself but being hit by the explosion): — Damn it! What was that?!
Amid the chaos and destruction, Aemon, though severely injured and with blurred vision, managed to crawl to a safe place. He looked at the burning battlefield, feeling a mix of relief and pain. The battle was not over, but he had taken a crucial step in his desperate plan to save everyone.