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((Triple Monday -- Page 3 of 3))
And for some reason, Parson followed his lead. Not wanting to be outdone, maybe. Not wanting to be a coward. So he bolted forward, too, knife in hand. He went for the man’s side while Damian soon acquired the soldier’s attention.

It didn’t last long. The man’s sword came free, and he cut through Damian’s stick and chest in one heavy downward stroke. Blood splattered across the floor.

Parson wasn’t even thinking anymore. He was already in the blind spot, so he just jammed the knife into the man’s thigh and yanked it upward.

The soldier howled and turned on him. The sword flashed up in Parson’s vision, but then Germal was there, holding onto the man’s sword arm like a wild monkey and trying to bite at his hand. The other hand came in hard and clobbered Germal in the face. The boy barely held on as the man changed his sword hand. Dangling, Germal couldn’t do much more than watch as the blade skewered him through the chest, all the way to the hilt.

Parson had found his way to the man’s back and jammed the knife through the uniform while he climbed up. The man flailed, and Parson tried to hang on, still pulling the knife out and jabbing it in repeatedly, working his way up to the man’s neck.

And he found it, too. The knife dug deep into bare flesh just below the soldier’s ear. The man stumbled back and slammed Parson against the wall. He finally lost his grip and dropped to the floor.

Disoriented, Parson scrambled to his feet, but the monster of a man rounded on him one more time. Despite being covered in blood, despite blood even spurting out of his snarling mouth as he struggled to breathe, the soldier still drove his sword through Parson’s stomach and tore the blade out through the side.

Parson fell. He heard himself scream in agony and watched as the soldier staggered back and dropped his sword. There was so much pain coursing through Parson’s whole body that it almost reverted back in on itself, numbing every sensation at once.

He tried to move, to get up, but it was all he could do to crawl. His body wasn’t listening. Even just breathing was becoming difficult. And the blood. There was so much blood. All over the floor.

Damian hadn’t gotten back up. Nor had Germal. Even the soldier was on his back now, hardly moving at all and still coughing up red.

The girl from upstairs arrived in his field of view. Claudia. And a few others, too, though it was hard to recognize them. His mind was foggy, and it was a strain even to think. He looked for Alisa Brandt, but she wasn’t there. Maybe she never had been.

Oh well.

Didn’t matter, he supposed. Would’ve been nice to see her again, though.

The girls were huddling around him and the other two boys. What were they doing?

Oh, they were crying.

Stupid girls. They should’ve been running. The other soldiers could come back at any time. He tried to say something, tell them how stupid they were, but his voice didn’t work anymore.

Then, finally, darkness took him.

But of course, that was not the end.

“Hello there, brave boy,” were Overra’s first words to him. “Looks like you could use a hand.”