A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor

Eternity rang out. That was the last glimpse of the mortal realm that Kursak was allowed. Infinity condensed into a single moment. He felt the bite of steel as it dug into his neck. He felt the flickerings of fear that came with it. More than anything though, what he felt was an overwhelming disappointment.

If he had time to curse, there was only one word that he would have said. 'Damn.' It would have fallen from his lips in a dark lamentation, as his life passed into significance. As his dreams that had once seemed so solid and certain became sand, and then water, and then air, before disappearing entirely into the void.

Acceptance was the emotion his body searched for, as it felt its death, but it was only fear that returned. Kursak believed in his Gods. But more than anything, he believed in himself. Now, as he lost complete control, the stability of his mind shattered.

The blade passed into his throat. He could no longer speak. He could feel the pain, but he welcomed it. He feared what lay beyond the pain now. The darkness that had begun to seep in at the corners of his vision.

The eyes that looked at him, he feared them too. They demanded something of him, even as his life left him. He wondered what that demand was. He puzzled over it, with the last shred of consciousness that he had.

It was only as his knees buckled, and he felt the blade finally meet his spine that Kursak thought he understood. Those eyes, that boy, with a sudden speed of gravity as he understood their intent, his knees slammed into the ground, for that was what the boy had asked of him – it had demanded that he kneel.

Kursak's head separated from his shoulders, and spun through the air. With all the strength of the last few embers of a dying fire, Kursak's consciousness raged on, whilst it still could. His lips twisted in a maddened smile. He would have laughed if he could have.

A moment ago, he thought he'd made a mistake, that he should have noted that boys coming.

And now, as his eternity ended, he realized his mistake had begun long before that. It began the very moment that he crossed the mountains. He'd unknowingly wandered into another man's destiny.

With his last shred of consciousness, he heard a bellow mourn his passing.

"KURSAAAAKKKKKK!!" A great and mighty roar, something that could shift mountains. That was what belonged in places like these, Kursak realized. He and that boy. There was a hardness of heart to them, a blinding force – like the current of a river – that seemed to empower them. It was only they that could dare to have hope on a battlefield.

Beam finished his swing without a shred of emotion. The Yarmdon nearest him had frozen, as the body of their mighty young commander fell down into the snow with a thud. A good many of them had broken through that gap that had been made, and they were already wreaking havoc.

He turned on his foot to confront them. Tolsey caught a look of his eyes then, and shivered. A streak of light shot past him, before he could realize what had happened. He did not need to turn around to put a picture to the noises that he heard. More men were dying, more lives were being taken.

Tolsey's eyes fell upon the mighty battleaxe that his opponent had gripped. One of the man's mighty hands still gripped tightly to its handle, even as he lay dead in the snow. Tolsey had felt the man's power in his strike, a power that far eclipsed his own. And now he saw the man's body, devoid of life.

He found his fingers reaching for his own neck, to ensure that it was still attached.

It had brought a shock to his heart, to see the powerful dealt with so easily. The mighty dispatched with no more fanfare than an ordinary man. It brought a shiver down the spine of that young commander, for he knew he was weaker than that man. Yet here he was, still alive, at least for a moment.

An axe neared his face as he stood there. Tolsey's sword hand twitched, and reacted of its own accord. He cut through several fingers, just enough to redirect that weapon. He grabbed the arm that wielded it, and guided it off to the side. Then he brought his shoulder in, and barged the man with all his might in the chest.

He felt his ribcage give and shattered. Tolsey's sword came to finish the job, as it bit in, halfway through the neck. Tolsey watched him fall into the snow, a proud emptiness having overcome him.

It was just like that, he realized. The ease with which he, a knight of the Second Boundary, dealt with foot soldiers, it was just like that for the rest of them – the leaders in this battle. He was no more than a pebble to them. They could end his life in a single instant. It was a shocking realization.

He dared to turn his head. The boy had finished his work already. Nearly twenty corpses were piled up in the area. The soldiers shouted his name with glee, as they raised their spears, as they were covered as much in blood as he.

"MOUNTAIN SLAYER!"

"MOUNTAIN SLAYER!"

They roared.

Tolsey found himself roaring with them, maniacally. Finally, after all the time spent on a battlefield, he felt what it was to be a soldier, well and truly. To be able to die at a single moment. To know one's vulnerabilities so well, to acknowledge just how sudden death would come, and to men even mightier than he… To know all that, and yet to fight anyway. It felt like a fire in his belly.

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Something that sought to melt the ice of mortality, and to claim glory in that single moment for all eternity.

Beam listened to their shouts. His fingers on his sword didn't feel like his. Since the battle had started a tension pervaded the air, one that distorted his senses. He hadn't felt this much bloodlust before. This great swell of emotions. Nor had he felt the aura of so many mighty men – it was only monsters he was used to.

Those, and the aura of his master.

The deep fatigue that he had built up through the day augmented his limbs and gave them a numbness. A thick darkness had begun to creep across his vision. With every new dead body that fell, it came on more thickly.