Just as Unity is about to smash Drake, over him falls, down from the sky, the Raptor.
Drake whispers, relieved for a moment, but the Unity twins are back on their feet in a matter of instants. They looks angry at the winged hero, which is standing on his feet, his sword Ladnikia aimed at the double monster.
It seems a fair duel, when Unity raise his heads and roars. It’s a terrible cry, the trumpeting of a prehistoric mastodon, that shakes the tree of the jungle. At the horrendous call, dozens of beings responds, coming out of the impenetrable vegetation. They seems men, but their skin is covered by short, dense hairs, of a yellow-brown hue, sparsely maculated by black blotches, and they have big, pointy hears, and yellow eyes.
“Jaguar-men, kill the winged one” shouts the Unity brothers.
They are surrounding me, coming out of the forests around Roncesvalles. Hundreds of Moorish, led by the fierce Saladin, brandishing their swords.
And I am alone, cut from the rearguard of King Charlemagne’s army. My men lying on the battlefield, I am the last one to survive. And soon I will suffer the same fate.
But until I will breath, I will bring death to the enemy, and Muslims will not advance a step toward the Holy Roman Empire soil.
I raise Durendal, her hilt firmly in the grip of my hands. I kiss the blade, and cross myself.
The Moorish come closer, holding their swords, their maces, their spears. They are all around me, a few yaards. Then they stop, and twelve, from behind me, from front, from right and left, departfrom the crowd and walks slowly toward me.
They smiles, anticipating the feast.
One more step, and their heads fly off in unison. Durendal sings her son of death and destruction.
I am merely her support. She guides my arm, and the muscles inside. She cuts and hit and pierces and punches.
She kills and rips open.
As the Moorish die one after the other, I found myself knee deep in blood and bowels. But they keep attacking, blind to my rage.
And they keep falling on the ground.
Until there are no more.
I take my horn, Olyphant, and blow. The army of Charlemagne will know that I, Roland, have won here in Roncesval.
But as I put down the horn, I see that, standing in front of me, the king of the Moorish, the fierce Saladin, is alive and well.
I raise Durendal, and attack. The oriental man parries it, and hit me over my left leg.
I fall, but lying on my back I am able to stop his blow with Durendal. He consequently falls back, while I manage to stand up. Sadly, my armour is much more heavier than his garbs, and he is standing back at my same time.
The duel that ensues is savage, indescribable. We both loose bloods from dozens of scarf and bruises. We are both very tired, it seems we are equal, and we are killing each other with each blow, no-one unable to prevail over the other.
The Muslim keeps talking, shouting at time, or whispering, but I don’t understand his language. And I keep insulting him, and his race of bastard dogs, but he, as well, seems to not to understand me.
Then, the noise of many horns breaks the utter silence of the valley. The army of Charlemagne is coming to rescue me.
When I turn, the fierce Saladin is gone.
I fall on my knee as many knights rush up, riding their horses.
Rinald quickly gets on the ground, and comes next to me, calling me: “Roland, Roland… Ed…Ed…”
Drake shakes Edulcore, still shocked by the battle of which he has been witness. The Raptor opens his eyes, his hands getting to the head.
“What happened?” he asks, and then he sees many dozens of cat-like people reversed on the ground, covered in blood. The whole ground, in truth, is red of blood.
The young man, standing up forcing on his croutches, wipe his sweat with an arm, and then says: “I guess you saved my life… oh, and you talked French, too.”
The Raptor stands up, takes a leaf from a nearby bush and with it clean the blade of his sword. The he puts Ladnikia inside the scabbard on his back. “Where’s Ameristar?” he asks. Drake raises one of the crutches, and point it toward the tower looming in the distance: “The turtle man got her there, toward the tower. The one called Unity has followed them, after you stopped to fight him.”
Edulcore looks disoriented, than takes a small radio from one of the pouches of his belt, and contacts Chance. A few seconds later, the Hovercraft lands in a small clearing of the forest. In less than three minutes, the three heroes are ready to follow the tracks of Ameristar.
And while they are penetrating inside the dense forest, the Raptor can’t stop himself to enjoy immensely the satisfaction produced by the feast of blood and souls.
