Path of the Tiger, стр. 413
‘No!’ Batiatus screamed. ‘Wall, break open half a step, fling pila!’
The outermost soldiers, whose shields formed the wall, broke open the wall just enough to create gaps through which soldiers standing in the ranks behind them could fling their pila – long-tipped, armour-piercing javelins – and they sprayed these deadly missiles outwards in a flashing blitz of steel. The projectiles blasted out in all directions in a synchronised whizz, and while some of the gladiators were able to duck under them, sidestep them or turn their deadly flight paths away with a flick of their shields, others, especially those who were at almost point-blank range, were unable to avoid the missiles. Barbed points struck home, piercing armour and flesh, breaking bones and decimating vital organs.
However, inside the square, the unexpected hawk from above, Viridovix, landed in the midst of the enemy ranks, and with a tornado whirl of his wickedly sharp longsword he scattered those troops nearest him, and thus began the work of his deadly mission. So fast were the strokes of his sword and the rakings of his steel bear-claws that he had cut down five soldiers before the others even had the chance to turn around and defend themselves, and in a surge of sudden panic they spun about, locking shields against this madly spinning dervish, this vengeful wind deity, materialised from thin air, it seemed, who was unleashing his hurricane of righteous wrath in their midst. Maharbaal, cool and collected, but bristling with cold wrath, shoved his way through the troops to the centre, readying both of his sicas as he did.
‘I trained this mutt, now I’ll end his worthless life!’ he roared. ‘Badgers! Two outside, break the attacking force, two in here with me to kill Viridovix! Troops, about turn, lock shields, lock him in there, fucking do it!’
While soldiers in the tortoise fell left and right beneath the deadly might of Viridovix’s lethally arcing sword and bear-claw, the converging left and right horns of the gladiator forces crashed their combined momentum against the outside of the formation.
‘Crossbowmen, punch them out!’ roared Batiatus, who was shielded from both Viridovix and the outermost gladiators by a tightly packed stack of shields.
As scores of shieldmen fell before the furious skill and rabid attacks of the gladiators and the wall began to break, rows of crossbowmen deep inside the square aimed their weapons outward and let fly with their zooming bolts. At such close quarters, and with the scorching velocity of the projectiles, there was no hope of dodging or evading them. Bolts slammed home, their steel tips punching through helms, throats and skulls, bringing death and grievous injuries to the attacking gladiators.
Viridovix was busy fighting off multiple opponents in a crazed frenzy, with eight dead and dying men lying at his feet, when the soldiers inside the shield wall backed off and locked shields, creating a ring around him. Despite his peerless fighting prowess and superhuman reflexes, he was already bleeding heavily from a number of wounds taken in his fight against so many opponents. It was then that Maharbaal burst through the shield ring, along with two of the heavily armoured badger troops, and in a converging triangle formation they all attacked Viridovix at once, howling like hell-fiends.
‘Die, you traitorous snake!’ Maharbaal roared as he flew at Viridovix with his dual sicas spinning in his hands.
Viridovix was in full combat mode; his extraordinary reflexes had kicked into overdrive, and his almost preternatural senses were feeding his brain information at hyperspeed. Movement and time slowed down, as it always did during his most intense moments on the arena sands. The three figures assailing him appeared, in his super-sense-enhanced mind, to be moving as slowly as untrained neophytes burdened beneath the weight of too much armour. His sword danced with fluid speed in his hand, clanging with a shower of sparks against Maharbaal’s flashing sicas, and he launched his body into a tornado whirl. Using the force and speed of his spinning, he felled one of the badgers with a crunching elbow to the jaw. The other badger, however, managed to duck beneath a swipe of Viridovix’s bear-claw, and with a savage thrust he stabbed one of his daggers deep into Viridovix’s abdomen, which happened to be exposed. Without even blinking, despite the grievous wound, Viridovix whipped one of the meat knives from his belt and plunged the sharp blade with mathematical precision into the gap between the badger’s gorget and helm. The badger fell back with blood spurting from the lethal wound, staggering into the unyielding shield wall, against which he slumped as he batted feebly at his throat.
Viridovix could not afford to pause to gauge the severity of the wound he had received; Maharbaal and the other badger were still launching furious attacks, and with a howl he spun about on his heels and sprang back to avoid a wild sica stab from Maharbaal. In the same motion, however, he brought his longsword whistling down in a vertical slash that severed Maharbaal’s right arm just above the elbow. On the upswing he turned the blade and smashed it into Maharbaal’s face in a vicious backhand stroke, shattering the doctore’s jaw and sending him reeling back in shock.
It was then that the remaining badger managed to evade Viridovix’s whistling sword and plunge one of his own blades into Viridovix’s back, just as the great warrior was spinning around to take on this new threat.
The wound was deep, but Viridovix, possessed of the madness of the battle and driven on by raging adrenalin, merely flipped his sword with a deft flick of his wrist and took off the badger’s hand at the wrist. Maintaining the momentum of the stroke, he whirled and then thrust the blade in a vicious horizontal stab to his rear. The long blade ran its length completely through Maharbaal’s torso as he tried to charge in to finish Viridovix from behind, and the doctore dropped his