Empire Under Siege Read Online Free PDF Page B

wore. The giant raised a massive war hammer in one hand and brought it smashing down on Yovas’s horse’s head. The animal dropped like a stone, pole-axed, throwing a stunned Yovas to the ground in the process.  
    Through the crush, Conlan saw Yovas raise both hands to shield himself as a sea of jubilant warriors engulfed him. Weapons rising and falling in a crazed orgy of glee.  
    “No!” Conlan shouted, fighting to get to Yovas’s body. But it was too late.  
    The bearskin-clad barbarian turned slowly towards Conlan. The giant had taken no part in Yovas’s killing, standing aside as his filth-ridden brothers did the work. On seeing Conlan and the advancing legionaries, he smiled broadly, eyes twinkling with glee and - letting out another ferocious roar - charged directly at them.  
    His countrymen seemed to hang back, as if making space to allow the blonde giant to attack. Conlan, moved to meet the giant, hoping that the rest of his cohort would follow. The barbarian moved freakishly fast for someone his size and quickly covered the ground between them, war hammer raised high for a crushing blow. Conlan lifted his shield in reply, steeled himself for the shock of the blow. But before it could land, a rock the size of a man’s fist flew into the savage’s temple, and he dropped to the mud at Conlan’s feet.
    “Need a little help, did ya?” Dylon yelled.  
    Conlan glanced round to see his friend grinning broadly. “Glad you didn’t miss!”  
    Their champion dispatched, the tribesmen seemed to pause for a moment, then they pressed their attack with renewed fury. Conlan led his men to join ranks with the legionaries that remained around the standard.  
    The standard bearer fell a few moments later as a throwing axe glanced off his helmet and sliced down into his neck, opening the jugular.  
    Dylon stepped forward, scooping the standard out of the bearer’s hand before it could tumble to the earth. “For the Empire!” he roared “We are Legion , do ya hear me, you shit covered heathen pigs? We... are... LEGION!! ” Dylon shook the standard in his fist as if taunting the horde, and, somehow, the men responded. Shoulder to shoulder around the hillock the legionaries fought on.

    Time began to lose all meaning for Conlan. It seemed like he had been fighting for years, for the entirety of his existence. He blocked, stabbed, parried and ducked reflexively now, his body relying on instincts honed by years of hard training. He had lost count of the men he had dispatched, their faces a mad blur before him.  
    “Can’t. See the Third. Think they’ve. Broken,” said Jonas, fighting with ruthless efficiency; he spoke in rapid staccato, the only indication that he was tiring.
    “ We are the Third! We have the standard.”
    Conlan’s sword was dashed from his hand as he blocked a savage blow. Instantly, Jonas stepped forward to cover him and dispatched the enemy with a slice that sounded like tearing silk.  
    Conlan retreated behind the shield wall, desperately seeking a sword amongst the fallen. The circle of men was barely twenty feet wide now. Each fallen comrade shrank the formation, bringing their inevitable doom ever closer.  
    A shadow passed overhead, drawing Conlan’s eyes toward Dylon. The huge man was on his knees, head bowed, as if in prayer, both hands wrapped tightly around the standard, holding it upright, forehead pressed against its obsidian shaft. Conlan reached out and touched the standard, and as he did so Dylon’s body slumped to the earth, revealing a huge blood soaked gash in the chainmail on his right side.
    Conlan, fighting to catch his breath, leaned his weight on the staff for support and looked down at the body of his friend. Dylon looked peaceful in death and younger than he had in life, softer somehow.
    Conlan felt certain he would join his friend in the halls of the dark god before the day was over. Dylon had died as he had lived, maintaining the honour of the legion. Conlan