They ran for their lives.

  Darius wrenched open the door of the entrance to the dungeons, pelted up the steps into the well-lit room beyond and into the keep— with Sitra hot on his tail. As a rushing throng, the large group made a mad dash up through the entry and the steps. The children were allowed to go first, then the rest of the prisoners, with the Mercuries, Vanto, and Torrance bringing up the rear. Because of the mass of bodies, it was taking too long to get everyone out. Too long.

  Arcos remained by the door, allowing the people to rush past him safely. He could not risk dropping Nerisity in the madness. Reeva and Boras stood with him and had their weapons up and ready.

  At the corner of the tunnel, a female Bodyhunter skidded around the corner.

  “They’re escaping!” She roared.

  Screams from the prisoners erupted as they shoved and rushed like panicked sheep rushing from the wolf at their back.

  Reeva did not waste a second. She fired from her crossbow, and the bolt buried itself into the head of the Bodyhunter. No sooner had that happened than ten more Bodyhunters rounded the corner. They halted for a moment, staring first at the dead Bodyhunter and then glaring at the group before charging with drawn weapons.

  Torrance grabbed a flaming torch from the wall and yelled, “The fire gourds! On the floor!”

  Six Mercuries dug into their pouches, fumbling for the gourds. They uncorked the drinks and flung them over Torrance’s head. They splashed on the ground as one of the faster Bodyhunters hurtled towards him. The attacker had a pair of hooked knives, the type used to gut fish. The Bodyhunter, in his rush to kill, failed to watch his step. He slipped in the wet drink and bashed his head into the floor.

  Without a word, Torrance threw down the torch on the Bodyhunter.

  Before he could beg for any mercy, the Bodyhunter was engulfed in flames as the alcohol burst alight. The screams he made were nightmarish. He writhed on the floor and howled, screeched, and squealed, hands scrabbling to beat away the fire that melted the leather he wore into his very flesh. His writhing spread the flaming liquid on the floor, from wall to wall.

  A barrier of fire stood between the two groups.

  Reeva knelt down and shot her crossbow bolts blindly into and through the fire. They heard screams and curses of pain. The fire and bolts had bought them precious seconds. Seconds that allowed the rest of the prisoners to flee out of the dungeons.

  With the path clear, Arcos turned and dashed up with Nerisity. Reeva, Boras, Torrance, Vanto, and the Mercuries followed suit.

  They all burst out into a hallway with wooden panel walls and paintings hanging on either side. A red carpet stretched from end to end. Once all of them were out, Vanto and Torrance slammed the door to the dungeons shut and barred it with one of the wooden benches in the hallway. Arcos looked around with sweat dripping on his face. Nerisity had one hand wrapped tightly around his neck with her other holding the bundle of clothes.

  He looked again, his face going pale. Someone was missing.“Where’s Sitra??” He shouted.

  People looked around. Sitra was nowhere to be seen. Worry lanced through the faces of all present. But it was Vanto who seemed not as concerned…

  Boras hissed. “Shitting hells! We have to find her!”

  Reeva shook her head, still carrying the child in her arms. “Not a chance! She brought herself into this. We have to get the people out first!”

  “We need to get her-” Boras protested.

  But Reeva snapped at him with growing panic in her own eyes. “Boras! We are going to die in here! I’m sorry, but we have to run!”

  “She will be fine!” Vanto reassured Boras. “We will see her outside.”

  “But-” Boras looked terrified.

  Vanto grabbed his shoulder, his eyes sharpened with resolve. “Do you trust her?”

  “Yeah!”

  “Then we will see her outside. Bodyhunter! Where to?”

  Darius nodded and pointed down the hall. “This way!” Bringing out his sickles, he sprinted.

  As one, the group rushed after him. Arcos led the group following Darius, with Barnabas half-carrying Margret and Hacker at his back. Reeva, Boras, Torrance and Vanto stayed at the rear, keeping the Mercuries and the prisoners close together.

  There was a smell of smoke in the air. The fire was breaking into the keep now, that was for certain. They could only hope that Sitra was safe somewhere doing whatever she had set off to do.

  As they turned the corner and ran down another hallway, they saw a row of windows that showed the outside of the keep and into the courtyard. It was fire and rain. The soft drizzle they felt this morning had turned into a deluge.

  But even the sheets of water were no match for the fire. The fire blazed hard.

  The stables were burnt to the ground and flames licked up the last of the timber. Lit up by the fire was the fighting. No one could tell who was fighting who, but it was safe that the Bodyhunters were winning. The Waywards, as brave as they were, would be no match eventually.

  Torrance hissed a curse and redoubled his efforts of running. “They’re in trouble! We have to help them! Come on everyone! We’re almost there!” A resounding cry came from the group, galvanised by his words.

  As Darius and Arcos passed a door to the other side of the hall, it burst open and two Bodyhunters leapt out howling with long-knives.

  The Bodyhunters barrelled into the throng of the Mercuries.

  With quick slashes, four surprised Mercuries were cut down, throats clashed or faces carved through. This caused chaos in the group. Children screamed, women howled and grabbed for anyone to save them as the group was pushed back by the ambushers who advanced on the defenceless lambs led to slaughter.

  Boras immediately leapt into action.

  With an ululating cry of anger, he bounded over and through the panicked prisoners, then tackled one Bodyhunter to the ground. Boras head-butted the attacker and then buried his axe into the man’s face, snapping his skull in twain. The second Bodyhunter’s face was summarily sliced in half by Darius’s sickle.

  Boras scrabbled to his feet and helped a few fallen children from the ground.

  “GO!” He shouted, pushing the children onwards.

  With that resolved, they charged onwards.

  Their hearts pounded in their chests, blood rushing through their heads. The only things that kept them going were the fear of being caught and the hope of being free. They ran down the hallway, turning and stopping, stopping and turning. The smoke grew thicker by the second and even the warmth of the flames could be felt by some.

  At long last, they burst out from one hallway and into the entrance hall. At the end, they saw the large oaken doors that led to the outside. With no hesitation, they hurtled for the doors. Darius was first to reach them and grabbed the handles to push.

  They did not move.

  Darius widened his eyes and pushed again.

  They did not move.

  Darius looked to the others who stared back at him with equal parts fear, hope, and anger.

  “They’re locked.” He uttered. “They’re locked!”

  “What!?” Torrance snapped. He ran up and kicked at the doors. They shook under his blow, but did not open. He snarled. “They’ve trapped us.”

  “Out of the fuckin’ way!” Came Barnabas’s booming voice. “I’ll be damned if I go up in flames like my tavern!” People parted as the bear man roared and shoulder-charged the door. The door shuddered and there was a creak. Barnabas grinned savagely, rubbing his shoulder. “Normal timber! I thought so!” He whipped his head to the Mercuries. “You lot! Find something that can be a ram!”

  Vanto nodded and pointed to one of the closed doors. A few Mercuries rushed away and quickly came back with an ornate grandfather clock.

  Reeva rolled her eyes at the madness unfolding before her. “Oh, that should be just fine…”

  Three Mercuries, Vanto and Barnabas, loaded up the clock in their arms and, as one, they began to ram the door. Crash. Charge. Crash. Charge. Crash.

  With each crash, the bell of the clock knelled. With each crash, the doors creaked louder and louder.

  “We’re nearly there!” Barnabas cried out.

  “Few more tries, lads!” Vanto encouraged his rammers. “And we’re home free!”

  “Are you now?” Came a calm and cold voice that sent a fear through all their spines.

  As one, the entire group turned their heads to the other end of the entrance hall. Standing there, with a troop of twenty Bodyhunters armed with crossbows loaded and weapons at their hilts, was Baron Markus himself.

  “Holy hells…” Barnabas croaked. “It’s him.”

  Arcos stared at the man. It was his first time seeing him. And he was truly everything Arcos had expected the man of such brutal reputation and merciless actions to be. It was the eyes that horrified Arcos in a way he did not expect. Those black dots against the white iris and sclera. Corpse-like. Not alive. Not human. A demon’s eyes.

  Arcos noted the cane that Markus held like a weapon, no doubt that it was one. Standing at his side was a smirking Hildur, with a small crossbow strapped to her wrist and aimed at them.

  Reeva growled under her breath. “Hildur…” She had already set down the child and readied her own crossbow and aimed it right back at her.

  Arcos knew that Reeva’s repeater could bring down the group of Bodyhunters in minutes. But they would shoot back. And Arcos could not risk any harm to any of them, especially Nerisity. One stray bolt and everything would have been for nothing.

  He snapped his eyes to Reeva and shook his head. Reeva noted his look and then lifted her fingers away from the trigger.

  He glanced down at Nerisity. Her eyes were wide with terror as she stared at the Baron and the Bodyhunter Hildur. Her hand clenched the bundle on her lap tightly and she seemed to shrivel in the presence of the man.

  Arcos felt a swell of anger. What did that bastard do to her?

  “I must say, Darius…” Markus drawled, his dead eyes flicking to the sweating Darius. “I am disappointed. I didn’t think you would take your demotion so badly… To throw in your lot with these people, with everything that you stand to lose… tut tut.” He tisked. “Poor planning.”

  Darius stood up straight and glared at Markus with uncharacteristic defiance. “These people want what I want. Freedom from you.”

  Markus laughed. It was a cold cackle. “No one walks away from me, fool. Least of all a glorified slave like you.” He cocked his head to the side, taking in the faces of the newcomers. “Hmm… from the attire of the arrivals, it seems like thugs. Ah! I recognise one of you. Vanto Heartly, isn’t it?”

  Vanto flinched.

  “Indeed…” Markus scratched his chin. “Which means these are members of the Mercury Gang. So, Victor Sade reveals his true colours at last… Now I have all the proof I need to crush that deformed little cunt.”

  Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

  Markus scanned more, locking his eyes on Torrance. “A red-haired fighter with one eye. Ah. You were one of the last escaped slaves from my destroyed Salt Pit. Good, you shall rejoin the ranks. Which would mean…” Markus then saw Nerisity, carried by Arcos. His eyes lit up maliciously.

  “Which would mean… that you must be Arcos Blade. The legend himself.”

  Arcos protectively curled his hands to hold Nerisity tighter to his chest. Nerisity folded into him.

  “Yeah.” He replied coldly.

  Markus put a hand on his chest in mock surprise. “My, my. I do stand in the presence of greatness.” Markus bowed his head mockingly. “Though, going by the things I’ve heard about you in Silverstreak, I had expected you to be… taller. Older.”

  Hildur chuckled under her breath.

  Arcos did not reply.

  “Oh. The strong, silent type.” Markus raised an eyebrow. “A runaway slave, returning to wreak vengeance on his captors. Seems a bit trite, don’t you agree?”

  “I’d say it would even be derivative.” Hildur added, drawing a smirk from Markus.

  Barnabas snapped out from his fear-induced trance, grabbed the clock and barked out a shout. “Come on!”

  He and the Mercuries resumed battering the door. It was giving way now.

  Just a few more rams.

  Markus remained unimpressed. “I would hope you don’t break my great-aunt’s clock as you attempt to leave. It would be an inconvenience. Much like this ill-fated rescue.”

  Arcos smirked savagely. “I think you have bigger things to worry about.” He nodded towards the smoke that was now gathering in the ceiling.

  Markus glanced up at it. And his face soured. “Indeed. You people have certainly proven to be a thorn in my side, as well as my brother’s. I didn’t expect you to be so troublesome. I was wrong.”

  “Must be an odd feeling for you.”

  “You have no idea…” Markus leant on his cane and then smiled. “But I shall be happy to know, regardless of what happens tonight, that I left my mark on you.”

  Arcos blinked. “What?”

  The door smashed open and the clock broke in half in the success. Wind and rain invaded the interior, lashing the marble and carpet in rainwater. Barnabas cried out a cheer and Vanto leading the Mercuries rushed out with the prisoners and Silverstreakers in tow.

  The people moved quickly into the storm and fires around the courtyard. The sounds of fighting soon intensified as Vanto roared a command to attack and the clashes of steel rang through the air.

  Reeva and Boras backed up towards the door, with Torrance and Barnabas holding the broken door open. Boras turned and saw Arcos had not moved.

  “Arcos!” He shouted.

  Reeva, Torrance, Barnabas and Margret also halted in their tracks. They all saw Arcos, still standing in the corridor with Nerisity, and staring at Markus.

  “What the hells do you mean; left your mark?” He asked, with trepidation crumbling his angry tone.

  Margret, barely able to stand properly, had to lean on Barnabas for support, froze. Her face grew white. “No. Don’t.” She gasped.

  Markus grinned. “Tell him, Nerisity… Tell your lover what that small bundle of clothes is in your arms…”

  Arcos looked down. Fearful, he stared at the clothes. Really stared at it. The blood that stained the fabric. He looked to her. She couldn’t look him in the eye. “Nerisity?” Arcos asked timidly.

  “Arcos!” Reeva yelled.

  “Come on man!” Boras howled.

  But he couldn’t hear them. Everything seemed to grow dull around him. His focus was on Nerisity. She had her face buried into his chest and she was crying.

  “Nerisity… what happened?” He asked again.

  Markus sighed, irritated by this emotional scene.

  “Fine. I’ll tell, since you can’t. Honestly, so bothersome… Nerisity was pregnant, you dolt. Pregnant, no doubt, with your child, Blade. Understandably, I cannot sell a pregnant whore. It isn’t feasible as my patrons prefer an unplowed field. So I had to get rid of it to fix the damage. Now, doing it the usual way would have killed her. She was unnaturally too far gone, coming to near-term in weeks, which is what should take months. I had no other option ahead of me than termination. Now, Hacker didn’t have the balls to go through with it. Thankfully, we had Margret and her Marked skill. It was as easy as pulling out a dagger from its sheath. But it was messy. I’ll have to get a cleaner to mop up the stains the little bastard left behind.”

  He admitted this monstrous act with the same matter-of-factness as a father explaining his son how to aim a bow. He sounded bored.

  Arcos listened. The world zoned in on Nerisity and the bloody clothes.

  He listened. The fires were drowned out by the throbbing of blood in his ears.

  He just listened. His friends remained still.

  He looked at the bundle again.

  And he saw it. Peeking from the folds. A small limb. A foot. A foot of an undeveloped baby…

  There was a howling in his head.

  A scream.

  A shriek. A cry.

  A roar.

  It was the voice of Alaintiqam. And his voice.

  Both in unison. In outrage of this crime against nature.

  KILL HIM. You could have been a father. KILL HIM. You would have been happy, if not for that monster. KILL HIM. He deserves no mercy, none of them do. KILL HIM. KILL HIM. KILL HIM.

  The others stood behind Arcos in dumbfounded shock and horror. Barnabas looked to Margret who wept bitterly, apologising over and over. Reeva, Boras, and Torrance were silent and stunned.

  Nerisity, unable to hold in her pain, finally screamed into his chest.

  Arcos looked up at Markus, who smirked, and then turned to his friends.

  His friends saw his face. Tears streamed down from his… eyes… his eyes were no longer the blue they grew to know. They had taken on a pale, opaque white. Milky white. Like he was blind.

  “What the hells…?” Boras uttered.

  “Kid?” Torrance asked.

  “It is a pity,” Markus added drolly. “If she just had given birth quicker, we wouldn’t have needed this… I hate losing slaves. There’s a profit to selling newborns to childless mothers, you know. Quite lucrative. Really, all of this is Nerisity’s fault. You’d think she’d have better control over her cunt, considering her tawdry profession. Oh well, I’m sure she’ll squeeze out another one someday…”

  Arcos's eyes twitched. And the pain, sadness, and grief faded like the rain on the fires outside. What remained was the rage. The bloodlust. The desire for murder.

  “Enough.” Arcos said. “Enough. Barnabas?”

  Barnabas looked up and saw Arcos approach him. He extended his arms and gave Nerisity over to the tavernkeep. Barnabas took a gentle hold of Nerisity and stared at Arcos.

  “What?” He asked the boy before him that seemed to be no longer a boy.

  “Get them out of here.” Arcos said softly, tears still streaming from his pale eyes. Once he did that, he turned and began walking towards Markus and the Bodyhunters with a slow and silent intent.

  KILL THEM. KILL THEM. KILL THEM ALL.

  Reeva rushed past the group at the door and grabbed Arcos. “Arcos! Don’t do this! You swore that you wouldn’t!”

  Arcos stopped walking. He reached out and placed a hand on Reeva’s shoulder. And with one simple shove, threw her flying back towards the group. If not for Torrance catching her, Reeva would have smashed into the doorframe.

  “Do not interfere.” Arcos hissed. His voice held a breathy tone, but it filled the hallway. “Friend or foe, it matters not. Do so again and you shall be cut down.”

  Reeva, sprawled against Torrance, gaped at Arcos. “You… You’re not Arcos… It’s you.”

  Arcos turned back towards Markus, reached into his cloak and drew Alaintiqam. And the silver sword glowed. It emitted a light like the moon that faded through the entrance hall.

  “That damned sword…” Boras uttered.

  Markus cocked his head curiously at the sword. “Really? On your own? How arrogant.”

  The Bodyhunters, still aiming their crossbows, awaited his order and now looked to him for the word.

  Nerisity whimpered. “Arcos… Please… don’t…”

  Arcos glanced at the sword. “Alaintiqam.” He said. “Give me your strength.”

  WITH ABSOLUTE PLEASURE.

  A surge of power leapt from his soul and into every aspect of his body.

  Howling, Arcos shot from his position and sprinted right for the Bodyhunters. As one, they loosed their bolts. A hail of bolts flew for Arcos, who seemed not to care. He swung his right sword hand with a mad sweep and deflected nearly all of the bolts, with two finding their marks in his leg and left arm. Caring not for the damaged and feeling little to no pain, Arcos howled again and leapt, clearing the last few feet between him and the group.

  Hildur grabbed Markus and pulled the fascinated man back before Arcos made his attack. His blow struck into one of the Bodyhunters. The blade sunk in deep, cutting through the leather coat, chainmail, and flesh with the effort of cutting into a bag of flour. The bisected Bodyhunter fell, and Arcos was now among them.

  He whirled with a speed unlike anything his friends had ever seen from him before.

  A sword came. He deflected it.

  Another would come, and he would parry and reply with a riposte.

  Months of training, rage, pain, tension, desperation, grief… all of it condensed into this single fight where murder was the only course of action for the broken young man. His targets were here. His focus for all his misery. He would finally be sated.

  Suddenly, the Bodyhunters, overconfident of their numbers, found their comrades dying one by one. Slowly, but gradually. They found themselves pushed back by one fighter. They were used to fighting desperate villagers or bandits. But nothing could have prepared them for the whirlwind in their midst, this wild blur of silver steel and black cloak.

  Arcos's teeth gritted and bared, and he felt blood gush over him in his bloodlust.

  He screamed and howled in the ecstasy of the kill. All the better to hold back the tide of pain that twisted his mind towards a madness that was finally unleashed.

  Seeing no other way to reason with Arcos now, Torrance grabbed Boras and Reeva and dragged them away. “Move!”

  “But Arcos-!” Boras shouted.

  “He’s done for! You saw that look. He’s lost it! We have to run!” Torrance shoved the pair away and after Barnabas and Margret. “Go!”

  Running down the steps and into the courtyard, the rain had lessened but still persisted. And it was like one of the Hells had come to this place.

  The courtyard and battlements were strewn with the bodies of the fallen. Some Bodyhunters, many Waywards and now most of the Mercuries lay face down in puddles of mud or staring up lifelessly at the night. Some bodies hung from the edges of the battlements. Others lay in the fires that continued to burn.

  The Waywards, ten out of the thirty that came, had formed a circle with the last of the Mercuries who only stood at fifteen out of the thirty-five. In the guarding circle were the prisoners and the Silverstreakers and Hacker himself.

  There were no dead prisoners, thank the Black. To the credit of the rescuers, not one prisoner had died.

  The remaining Bodyhunters, that numbered nineteen from the thirty stationed in the courtyard, stalked the huddling group, looking for an opening.

  Torrance saw a Bodyhunter rush at Barnabas and Nerisity from the dark with a scythe. Torrance roared in rage, charged her, disarmed the weapon and drove all four claws into the woman’s chest. He punched and punched until she was down.

  Boras looked back and saw the fire that roared up and ate up the left half of Markus's keep. The windows snapped and shattered against the intense heat and the stone crumbling under the pressure. The right side of the keep was unmarred, but it wouldn’t be for long.

  One of the right side’s windows was open and smoke billowed out. The fire had reached the inside. And a person, covered in soot and singed clothes, was clambering out.

  Hold on, what?

  The person, holding onto a satchel over their shoulder, jumped out of the window as an explosive blaze of fire chased them out. Screaming, they were holding onto a lengthy piece of bed linen as they dropped. It was long enough to take most of the fall but not all. With the sudden jerk of its end being reached, the linen tore in two and the person was sent screaming the last ten feet to the ground with a sickening crack. The person rolled on the ground and swore and cursed in pain.

  Boras started, knowing the voice and the colourful swearing. “Sitra!”

  He dashed for her as another Bodyhunter saw her and darted with a sword raised to strike her dead.

  “No!” Boras flung one of his axes and it spun in the air before clashing with the sword in the Bodyhunter’s hand. It was knocked from his grip.

  He whirled on Boras coming for him with a snarl.

  A snarl that turned to a yelp, when Sitra, burnt, bruised and nursing a broken ankle, drew out her longknife and sliced open the back of her ankle.

  The Bodyhunter collapsed with a howl, one that was silenced when Boras took his second axe with both hands and with a running charge, bashed the man’s teeth in with its blade with one powerful upswing, flipping the kneeling and now dead Bodyhunter over. Grabbing his other axe and hoisting the cursing Sitra on his shoulder, he limped her back with as much strength as he could to the group that fought off the Bodyhunters.

  “You crazy bitch.” He grunted.

  “Yeah, I know.” Sitra admitted with a chuckle.

  “The hells you were doing up there??”

  “Recon.”

  The circle opened quickly to let Boras and Sitra stumble in. Vanto dove for Sitra and dragged her further into the group. “Miss Sade!”

  “I’m fine Vanto!” She waved off his concern. “Got what I was looking for!” She patted the satchel.

  “Where the hells is Malka??” Torrance shouted.

  “Don’t know!” Vanto replied. “She disappeared in the fight! She might be dead!”

  “Dammit!”

  Boras looked around and saw Reeva reloading her crossbow and firing around at the Bodyhunters with wild desperation. But the Bodyhunters had adapted. When two of their group were felled by Reeva’s bolts, the rest grabbed shields and were blocking her attacks. It did keep them back. But Boras knew that Reeva only had as many bolts as she could carry on her person. They had little time.

  There was a crash of fiery wood. He turned and saw the front of the keep coming down and destroying the front entrance, leaving only a waist-high barricade of burning wood and stone. Arcos was stuck in there now.

  Reeva looked back and saw the fire consuming the entrance. “ARCOS!” She screamed.

  Arcos smashed through a pair of doors, crashing into a dining room with a table and eight chairs, with cutlery prepared and set. Fire crawled up the walls, ash matted the air, soot covered his clothes and hair. Blood caked his face and his hands felt sticky.

  The Bodyhunters surged after him as he chased Markus and Hildur, who was on the other side of the room. Arcos used his free hand to rip out the bolts in his stomach and sword arm. Blood seeped from wounds of swords, bolts and spears. The lessening pain was good. It gave him a clarity of where he was going and kept him sharp.

  “MARKUS!” Arcos screamed.

  He sensed an axe coming from behind him. He ducked and sliced Alaintiqam up. He felt the blade split the man’s jaw in two, causing the Bodyhunter to stagger back, screeching.

  Arcos spun around and severed an outstretched hand of another Bodyhunter that attempted to get into his guard.

  He cut down one more and then another. Blood splattered and then boiled against the heat of the flames.

  Markus's eyes were ablaze with wonder and madness. He smiled as he drew his sword from his cane. “Let us begin then, boy.” He charged at Arcos. Arcos did not care that Markus was faster than even the Bodyhunters. But he did care that Markus was within his guard and struck him through the shoulder with a twisting thrust.

  Arcos grunted. He lifted his boot and fired out a kick that sent the Baron hurtling back with a crash against the dining table. It tipped and fell with the force of the blow. Markus coughed and laughed.

  “Yes! There we go! Show us what you’ve got, slave!”

  Arcos started at him. “Why are you laughing?? Your fortress is in flames! We have our people free!”

  Markus laughed again. “Dumb slave. You expect me to wait for your attempts with no plan in action? No. I prepared. And I only prepare when I know when to expect something like this.”

  “What?”

  “Idiot. Haven’t you figured it out yet? This was all a trap. I knew about this little escape attempt from the very beginning. I had a little spy tell me everything. She betrayed you all. And now that you’re all where I want you, I need not worry. I have plenty of fortresses apart from this one. Plenty of resources. I will rise again and bury you all in the mud. Your friends are already dead. As you will be, slave. You’re just too stupid to realise that yet.”

  The Bodyhunters, only eight left, attacked. Hildur rushed to Markus's side. Arcos looked at them all and howled like a rabid wolf before resuming his assault.