With the threat from behind gone, the discipline of the Xanthian hoplites’ training came to the fore. Nikolas ran to join them, pushing through the ranks and roaring for them to hold.

The line came together. But the sun king’s men sensed victory and pushed on relentlessly. Nikolas had lost his spear and shield and now had only his sword. The enemy pushed forward. The Xanthians gave ground. The tide would turn one way or another at any instant.

A screaming warrior came at him, thrusting a spear at Nikolas’s head. Ducking under it, Nikolas lunged forward and slashed at his opponent’s unprotected knees. The warrior’s screaming changed pitch as he fell. In a momentary lull, Nikolas saw that there were no longer any giants or ogres fighting with the sun king’s men. He looked up. Winged creatures were fighting each other in the skies, writhing and rolling as dragon fought dragon and fury fought fury.

Bodies were everywhere. The ground was stained red with blood. Nikolas suddenly found himself fighting two men at once, and when he looked for help he saw that every man around him was occupied as each force tried to make one final surge and achieve victory.

He pushed a spear away with his sword and lunged, feeling the blade bite deeply as he struck a stocky Ilean’s throat. But then his second opponent, a man as muscled as Nikolas himself, slashed down with a curved sword. Nikolas managed to avoid the blow, but he felt sudden fire as sharp steel sliced the back of his sword hand.

His sword dropped from his fingers. Seeing his enemy without shield or weapon, the big warrior’s eyes lit up with triumph as he prepared to make a final killing strike. Nikolas waited for the end.

Then, swift as a bird, an arrow flew past Nikolas’s ear. The Ilean cried out and put his hands to his face, trying in vain to clutch at the shaft that sprouted from his eye. As he fell and another enemy took his place, a second arrow tore into the next Ilean’s face.

‘Forward!’ came the cry from one of the officers.

‘Forward!’ The men took it up.

‘Forward!’ Nikolas roared as he raised a fist to the sky. ‘Counting march!’

Linked shield to shield, the men started to count.

‘One!’ They took a step forward, pushing back the enemy line.

‘Two!’ They grunted as they moved again.

‘Three!’ The enemy fell to spears and swords.

Finally, the army of Ilea broke.

They ran for the city and Nikolas saw that the gates were wide open as their yellow-cloaked comrades helped them flee. With savage joy the hoplites chased after them, cutting them down from behind.

A rearward guard held the gates for a time, and then the first of Nikolas’s men swarmed through, followed by a flood of crimson-cloaked men, rushing to reclaim their city.