Elim hovered just on the edge of consciousness, his vision blurry and his thoughts drowned out by pain. He could just barely make out the silhouettes of a half-dozen figures stepping out of the tree line. They were huge, hulking shapes. He couldn't tell if they were monsters or men.
The second mercenary took a step back. The first slowly lifted his sword out of Elim's shoulder and turned around nervously. Silence fell over the clearing, as the two sides stared each other down.
Then one of the figures roared and broke ranks with the rest. They charged at the second mercenary, who barely had time to deflect a downward hew from an enormous sword before the figure punched him in the gut with their free hand. He doubled over, and in the blink of an eye, the sword severed his neck.
The first mercenary turned to run, but the other figures roared and charged as well. Elim couldn't see what happened to the man, but he heard the clash of steel and a cry of pain.
The figure who had first charged flicked the blood from their blade - it really was huge, the kind of weapon an ordinary man would need two hands to lift. They slowly walked towards the injured prince, sheathing their sword as they did.
Elim blinked, then blinked again. As the figure drew closer, he could make out details. The figure was a huge warrior, well over six feet tall, wearing a hauberk and a bearskin cloak. And yet as the figure loomed over him, he couldn't believe his eyes. It was unmistakably a woman, with sharp, elegant features and flowing flame-red hair. It was a sight out of myth and legend.
It was the last thing he saw before the pain overtook him and he slipped into unconsciousness.