A Daemon-Horn Blade Ch. 17

With a song of joy in his heart that even cold steel could not forever extinguish, Rowan charged into the very point of the horde's attack wielding infernal metal and fire as he spun into the very heart of the charging army, further and faster than the horrified Gwenda could move to follow, to aid and protect him. Despite her orders to remain behind the lines in safety, she tried desperately to reach him. Soon she was in a frantic battle for survival all of her own and when the first wave of Boar-Men reached her she couldn't even see the flame of Rowan's sword deep in their midst any longer.

With her own death-song now on her lips, she shouted to command the two battalions on either side of her to form in a fighting 'V' wedge, as Rowan had requested, to force and grind the point of the Eorfleode ever deeper into the bloody center of the battle-line. Now trapped, the still vast horde could be ground down and destroyed in piecemeal, surrounded on both flanks and soon cut off from any possible escape to the rear by the circling archer cavalry and the thousands of angry goblins. The púcel were now arming themselves with whatever weapons they could scavenge, and slowly cutting down the flanks and rear of the horde, one hated enemy at a time.

When the crash of a great heavy warclub to the side of her skull soon drove Gwenda helplessly down to the ground, the fighting wedge had been solidly formed and already the great slaughter on the flanks and rear had begun. Her lover's plan had worked, and even should they both have fallen together this dark morning, the battle was near to already won. As the great club started its final decent that would send her off to the Shadowlands, she surrendered to the pain of darkness without any thought of complaint. If her true love was not already there waiting for her, then he soon might be there to join her, together again and for eternity. Such a victory, and such a reward was more enough for her.