Alpheo was on his knees, his voice a raw shout of agony that cut through the air. His right hand was all red with blood , a dagger piercing through the flesh, the blade embedded deep enough that the tip jutted out from the back of his hand. Blood pooled beneath him, his face contorted in pain as he clutched at the wound with his free hand, eyes wide with shock and fury.
Nearby, Thalys lay face-down in the dirt, his arms forcibly twisted behind his back by two of Alpheo's men.
This was the first man Alpheo was so close to death, in this life at least , yet it seemed that his luck was as big as his ambitions.
Meanwhile Jarza wasted no time. With a savage roar, he swung his mace in a brutal arc, crushing the skull of one of Thalys' guards, the sickening crack of bone echoing across the battlefield. He then turned and with a roar brought his weapon down on a second man before the guard had a chance to react.