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Three attackers for every defender. Axe marks showed where someone had tried to chop it for a fire or building timber, but the ancient wood had defied them. One of the doors was open and he could hear the sound of a muted conversation followed by the clatter of metal, as if something had fallen. There was something mystical about this land, mystical and terrible, that he doubted he would ever fully understand. Their armour, shields andpila javelins were all neatly stacked much Sonic underground: ready, aim, sonic! far away in the centre of what would become the fort. Less than three paces away the spearman heard the sharp click and whirled, lightning fast, to face the new threat. It was a rout. A lethal triangular point and a decent edge. The rebels had been taken completely by surprise. Without conscious thought the man behind stepped forward into the gap. He froze as he glimpsed someone slipping furtively through the ruins to his right. Before the pebble stopped rolling the man in front was on the move again and he was moving fast. Why shouldn’t they know each other? It would have been different if they had stayed behind these walls.
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