He found himself embroiled in another duel quickly enough. The barbarians seemed to be all over the place, cutting and slashing with their wild, untrained manner. A quick glance around told Jon that the Tower guards were being driven back; half a dozen of his childhood friends lay slain near him, and a river of blood trickled slowly through the grass.
The barbarians were falling too—but their giant leader was indomitable, was wreaking death right and left in the ranks of the Guardians.
Jon killed his opponent and looked around. The thick of the battle was on the other side of the Tower, he saw. It was now nearly noon, and the sun blazed brightly off the Tower's metal sides.
When he reached the other side of the Tower, he was surprised to see that barely half a dozen guards remained alive. Half a dozen, out of nearly forty.
He plunged into the fray with furious energy, cutting down three Wild Ones before they realized he was there. That narrowed the odds considerably.
Only three of the Free People remained—and four of the Wild Ones. It had been a bloody, fierce battle, with heavy loss of life on both sides.
Jon's sword plunged into a barbarian's throat, and in that instant the giant's weapon cut the life from the man at Jon's side. Two against three, now.
"Now!" Jon yelled and drove down against one of the remaining Wild Ones. His slash ripped open the man's leg, but before Jon could apply the finishing touch one of the other barbarians killed his man and lunged at Jon, who parried and dropped the man with a swift chop.
The realization hit him suddenly: I'm all alone.
And the gigantic Wild One was moving slowly toward him to finish off the last of the Tower guards.