General Hilbard looked haggard and lost. The north wall had fallen and the south wall was about to. In the courtyard the desertmen were pushing his forces back towards the gate that was about to give. He had given his last orders a few minutes ago. Every man was to fight on, they had to hold on till the relief army was there.
At least the building was well barricaded so they could hold that for another day. He whirled around at the noise he heard from the antechamber and had his sword ready when a few desert men burst into the room.
General Hilbard charged, decapitating one opponent and striking at another that, barely, managed to duck. His armour took the blows from the light scimitars, but they moved easier and faster without armour.
Sweat drenched his body as he fought on. The sounds of battle came from all over the building now. He wondered how they had gained entrance. A stunning blow numbed his left arm as he thrust his blade deep into the man’s chest. Pulling it free made blood squirt out of the wound, making the tiled floor slippery. He swayed his arms as he nearly lost his balance and that saved his life, for now, as the heavy spiked cudgel went wide.
He recovered quick enough to give his opponent a deep and bloody gash across his back. And then he faced only one adversary. The man was a head smaller than he was and held two scimitars that whirled around constantly.
Breathing heavily he watched and regained some strength.He noticed that at one point there was a constant opening in the whirling blades. Suddenly he jumped forward to find nothing there while a blade cut through his throat. He saw his own blood flying around as he spun to see his helmet on the table. Crashing to the floor he knew he had done all he could and that the women and children were safe. He stopped breathing before he hit the floor.