The wild-eyed fighter swung again. He was a burly man with the look of a farmer, wide-jawed
and broad-shouldered, built like a bear. He roared in attack, and Soterius could see no reason in the man's eyes. There was nowhere to run. Soterius threw his knife, catching the big man in the thigh. Blood streamed from his leg and into the snow, but the axe-wielding fighter did not slow, as if pain meant nothing to him.
Sure he was about to die Soterius braced himself, looking for an opening. As the man lifted his axe to swing he stiffened and his head jerked up, blood spurting from his mouth. With a death rattle, the big man keeled forward, Tadrie's sword through his back. Soterius realized he was shaking as he met Tadrie's eyes, and saw the farmer's look of complete horror and revulsion.
There was no time to ask questions. Snatching up the dead man's axe, Soterius lifted the heavy blade and went running at full speed toward the attackers that were driving Pell and Andras back to back. With a wild cry he swung the blade, cleaving one of the madmen practically in two. Tadrie seemed to have snapped from his trance, dropping his sword and grabbing a sledgehammer from one of the dead men. He swung the hammer in wide swaths, closing on Pell's attacker. Soterius could see that tears glistened on the farmer's face and he could hear Tadrie murmuring a prayer for the dead. Andras and Soterius made a frontal strike, rushing at the ragtag fighter with a ferocity that matched his own madness and striking with sword and axe. Tadrie's hammer fell from behind, taking off the back of the man's head.
"I want one of them alive!" Soterius knew as he said it that he was asking a lot from his own men, who, having neatly routed the Margolan troops, were barely holding their own against these berserker fighters. Three of the madmen were still standing, and Soterius could only count half a dozen of his own men on their feet. The trampled snow was red with blood, and bodies littered the space between the hillside and the forest.
There was a rush of air beside him, and a blur of motion. Soterius glimpsed Mikhail as the vayash moru struck at one of the madmen attacking Sahila and another fighter. Soterius jerked his head, and Pell and Andras fell behind him at a run, stopping only for Pell to snatch up the axe from the dead madman's hands.
Sahila swung his heavy two-handed sword in wide swaths, trying to keep his distance from the madman who was advancing, completely heedless of the blade. As they grew closer it was apparent that Sahila's companion was badly wounded, but he attempted to back up Sahila nonetheless. Soterius watched in horror as Sahila's blade connected with the advancing fighter, severing his arm at the shoulder. Still the madman came on, with no hint in his expression that the pain even registered. Soterius, Pell, and Andras charged from behind. Soterius let his axe fly when he came into range. The heavy weapon spun handle over blade, until it hit with a sickening thud in the middle of the madman's back. The big man dropped to his knees without a sound, and fell face-forward into the snow.
