Aerak fought with the fury of the storm. Each strike of his great hammer brought life to the dead. They each fell before him, twisted creatures with too many arms, fangs, and horns. None of them were anything like he remembered. Was this what his visions promised?
But he could not think of this as he fought. He had to concentrate. He had to focus. A single mistake would mean death and he had already made so many. It had been many years since this last happened.
“The other two are dead!” Drund shouted from over the pounding rain and the roar of the acid seas. “The wizard and the cleric. We have to retreat, or we’ll all die here!”
Aerak knew this was true. He knew that they should retreat. He knew that sacrifices must be made. He knew that they should leave them here, these other men with him. He knew this is what he must do, but he could not. He could not bring himself to do it. He had to help. He had to save them. Even though it was what could doom them all.
Aerak fought on. He knew that he was the last. That his two best friends were already dead. He knew that Drund would not accept his help. None of the others would. Even the prince was quickly becoming consumed by the foul magic that went on here.
Aerak fought on. No one could do this but him. He had to do it. He had to save them. He had to save all of them. Even if it meant his own death.
It took many tens of minutes for him to see his mistake. He had made the mistake at the very beginning. He knew it was the beginning when he lost the other two. He knew as soon as he fought the first new creature that he had failed.
The strange twisted creatures that haunted him in his visions were twisted in the wrong way. They were twisted like a mirror image of the men fighting here. Instead of ending as a man, they twisted first. They changed sizes like an animal and grew arms and teeth before becoming a monster monster that would kill any man who saw it. But what these men fought were not monsters. They were men like him.
When the strange creatures first appeared on the field, the men began to laugh and joke. They cheered and enjoyed this bright new challenge. Aerak could not take this. He knew that this was a mistake. In the visions he saw future mistakes that men made with magic like this. In the visions he saw deaths, both men and monsters.
But he would not be like them. He could not fall to the monsters. He could not continue as he fought. He deserved so much better than this.
This battle was a mistake. If he kept fighting like this he could not escape the death that waited for him. But he could not stop fighting with his mind so clouded. He must leave it up to someone else. He must leave it up to the prince.
The cleric yelled, “Aerak, warrior for dar, stay with us,” he said.
Terek and the prince ran to stand beside the cleric. They prepared their weapons and shields. They were trained and disciplined men. They would fight. They would not leave the others behind. They would die with him, and that was their choice. They did not need him to tell them that. They would fight. They would die. They would be heroes of Eros.
But Aerak was no longer thinking. He could hear the cleric, and he could hear his fear. Men die easily here, he thought. It is only a matter of time. They do not stand a chance.
He shouted back, “You will stand no chance either, cleric, saved only at the last by a to-be-great Sorrorian. I forgive you. Fare well.”
Just in front of him, the cleric stood wide-eyed in shock. Aerak smiled at the cleric. A terrible new he knew.
Aerak continued, “You will not die as heroes this day. Your deaths will be shameful and invisible and no one will ever know of your gallant sacrifice today.”
Aerak did not know where his magic came from. He did not know if it came from a god, or from his own soul, or from some other reason. He did not know what awaited him in the afterlife, nor if there even was an afterlife. He only knew that he was going to leave this group. He knew that he wanted to do something for them first.
The cleric was older. The cleric’s mind was beginning to be clouded by fear, as was his soul. Aerak could feel the heat of the cleric’s fear. The cleric knew what was coming and he hoped for a miracle. But Aerak had no such miracle.
The cleric suddenly gritted his teeth and raised his sword. He screamed, his voice full of hopelessness.
During the time, he had waited, Aerak knew this man. His name was Khaldor, and his mind bore no ill will to Aerak. This was his first fight without his magic. Aerak learned that this was Terek’s brother in arms, and that he had been away from Eros for many years. And he now learned that he was about to die, in the same glorious sacrifice that Eros promised and that the cleric so hoped for.
The cleric challenged Aerak to single combat. The cleric had a life to live. Aerak knew this and accepted a hit from the cleric’s sword. But the hit did not come.
Aerak and Terek and Drund were not prepared for the barrage of attacks that came where Khaldor was. The cleric had closed the gap and he struck at Terek and Drund. While Khaldor swung, Aerak raised his sword against the cleric.
Aerak was not trained like Drund and Terek. He had not fought many battles. He had not been trained in the ways of warriors. Drund shouted a warning to them. As he spoke, there was another attack from the cleric and the world exploded in pain.
Aerak did not remember what happened next. He did not remember anything from the overwhelming pain. He was sure that he heard Drund shout something about moving. He was sure that he heard Terek roar something in pain and anger. He did not know what became of them. He did not care. He just knew that the cleric was dead. And he was alive.
How he was alive, he could not tell. That his mind was still conscious was a miracle. That he still stood on his feet must have been some sort of sorcery. Maybe it was magic, or divine intervention, or just luck. How the cleric’s life was emptied out and Aerak preserved was some sort of miracle. Maybe Sorroneira had simply flipped a coin and decided to save Aerak for a second chance. But this would not matter once he realized that he was alone.
No one could be with him. No one would fight with him. He was alone.
He turned to Terek. “Don’t I get something? Some sort of prize? Is it just me?” He yelled at the simple soldier from Eros. “Some sort of reward for my sacrifice? I’m sure I’ve earned it.”
Aerak realized that this was his last shot, his last chance to escape. He knew his life hung in the balance here, like a knife pointed at his chest. He needed to stop being silly. He needed to get this over with. He needed to stop fighting, and he would not get another chance. He fought back the fear.
He turned to Drund. He yelled, “I need to get on with my task.”
He turned back to Terek. He needed to get this over with. He needed to kill that stubborn dwarf.
He raised the great hammer of a hero against the soldier from Eros. “I’m going to smash you against the wall and make you not quite dead. I’m going to make you not quite dead.”
He rushed the dwarf. In a great rage and rage display, he swung his hammer down against the dwarf. The hammer head struck the ground and it made a great racket. He stepped back and waited. It was time to kill the dwarf. There was nothing else to do.