The great-club came down at him in a two-handed grip and Daifon ducked to his right. Raising his shield, he deflected the worst of the crushing blow but it still staggered him. Lashing out blind he swung a back-handed stroke and was rewarded with the meaty ‘tchunk’ of blade meeting knee.
The creature fell to the ground howling and he looked around. Hyron was hard-pressed and cornered by the other ogre. Shifting his grip on the sword he moved to his friend’s aid.
Hyron feinted to his right but the creature ignored it. The sweeping blow from the heavy scimitar was inexorable as it caught the elf in the ribs; winding him and flinging him across the chamber. His body crunched against the wall and slid down to lie prone.
Sounding his battle cry, Daifon leapt and brought his sword down on the ogre’s nape. Holding on with his shield arm, he rode the now lifeless sack of meat and bones to the ground. Catching his breath, he looked toward Hyron; there was no movement.
Sprinting towards the sprawled body, Daifon dropped his shield and sword as he skidded to his knees. Laying his hands on Hyron’s shoulders he closed his eyes and willed life and health into the inert form.
Nothing. No warmth. No light. Nothing answered his prayers.
He had failed. Again.
He let his head fall and his shoulders followed until his forehead rested on his friend’s chest. He wept with rage, frustrated at his own incompetence.
“I’m sorry, Hyron. I’m so sorry. I should have known it was a trap. I should never have asked you to investigate
“I should have... done... something...”
Hyron coughed weakly.
“You should ‘ave killed that bloody ogre quicker. That’s fer sure”
