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Bodies sank into the mud, trampled by the battle that raged on, heedless of their deaths. In its heart had formed an oasis, like the shifting eye of a storm. The rest of the battle flowed around it, even the most hardened and reckless of soldiers not daring to cross the dissonant calm towards the two figures that fought there.

Artemisia felt her ribs shatter as she was lifted bodily into the air by the blow. Hot pain flashed all down her side and into her lung, burning as she gasped and tumbled. Hitting the ground came as something of a relief. She came to rest suddenly, the thick, cold mud oozing into her armour. As the pain lanced through her body, she shivered in excitement.

"Hah! This is the fabled Demon of Ashlai?" The huge bear stood over her, his dented plate armour reflecting the dirty white of his fur. He hefted his bulky war-hammer over his shoulder and, as she tried to get up, delivered a thunderous kick that sent her skidding a dozen feet. "You're the one everyone was running from like cubs that'd pissed their drawers?"

With a heaving gasp, she lifted her torso from the ground and flopped over onto her back. Blood gurgled in her sinuses as she tried to breathe, focusing on her opponent. Her right hand ran across the ground and clutched at the half buried pommel of a lost sword. Before she could get a proper grip on the weapon, he'd covered the distance between them in two easy strides and brought his plated boot down with a crunch.

She could feel the bones break clear through, tearing muscle and sinew as they went. He grinned down at her as he felt the snap and the angular bend of her arm beneath his weight. To his surprise, she didn't scream. If he hadn't know better, he'd have sworn he heard her laugh.

"I thought you'd be better than this" He spat. "I was hoping for a challenge. The least you could have done was put on a decent show before you died." He leaned forward, putting more of his weight on her arm. "Now every time I hear someone tell of how I, Marcus Maritimus, champion of Bannihar, killed the Demon of Ashlai... the victory will just seem hollow."

Artemisia pushed back into the ground with her thick tail, arching her back as she brought a foot swiftly upwards. It didn't connect but the unexpected lunge made the large bear step back, releasing her twisted right arm. She carried the momentum through, pushing with her tail as she rolled hips-over-head. Her feet found purchase in the soft ground and she managed to pull herself upright with a damp grunt before sagging slightly to the right, her arm hanging limply at her side.

"You talk... like... you've already won... I don't appear... to be dead... yet." The words came weakly, rasping in her throat as blood dribbling from her maw, but she appeared to be grinning.

"If only your skills were as impressive as your ego, this might have been at least entertaining." He pulled his heavy weapon forward, catching the shaft higher up with is second hand as it over-balanced, and brought is round in a skilful sweep at waist height. A moment of surprise flickered across his face as his target lurched to the side and twisted, the blunt head of his hammer barely scraping across the metallic red of her armour.

Artemisia took a step back, then another, her eyes never leaving the face of her quarry.

"You even seem to be under... the impression that you're somehow... winning this battle..." The words seemed stronger now, the breaths between them clear and less frequent. Marcus chuckled and snarled back at her.

"And you think you are? You've done nothing but retreat since we crossed blades." He adjusted his grip, judging the balance of his weapon for another strike. "I snapped your sword in two, you don't even have a weapon."

One more step backwards and she stopped. Without looking, she casually reached out her left hand and rested it on an upright metal pole that stood beside her. Marcus hadn't noticed it before then but his eyes were drawn to it now. The metal bar was the shaft of a monstrous pole-arm. The axe-like blade took up a full third of its length and had been stabbed into the ground to leave the weapon standing upright.

"My weapon is exactly where I wanted it to be. You should have asked yourself sooner why the Demon that's famous for never retreating, seemed to be doing so. You let yourself be lead far too easily." She stood there, leaning on the shaft of the weapon, making no attempt to draw it from the ground. Her chest heaved in slow, laboured breaths but still she grinned from under the demonic curves of her helmet.

"Hah! You lack even the strength to lift it, you can barely stand as it is. If this was meant to be some sort of last stand, so be it, I'll give you your death in battle." The bear's muscles bulged as he heaved the massive hammer over his head and, stepping forward, brought it down with perfect aim.

His joints jolted and sang with a sudden, sharp pain as his swing jerked to a halt. In a heartbeat, his gaze had locked on to what had ceased the seemingly unstoppable decent of the weapon. Artemisia's right hand gripped it firmly halfway up the shaft, holding it as if she'd caught nothing more than a falling apple. Her feet sank under the pressure and his arms shuddered from the strain but she remained motionless, staring into his eyes.

"But I broke th..." He was cut off sharply as she spun, pivoting around her grip on his weapon. Her tail seemed to swipe at him, barely missing his belly but, too late, he realised it was merely the leading counterweight to the kick that hit him full force. The impact sent him falling backwards with a metallic clang but, startled as he was, he'd managed to keep a grip on his hammer.

He thrust the war-hammer's shaft into the mud and pulled himself to he knees in time to see Artemisia casually drawing her own weapon from its resting place. Her stance was firm yet strangely relaxed as she regarded him. The large pole-arm spun in front of her, passing over from her left hand to her right. As she gripped it, she swung the shaft under her armpit to leave the blade pointing downwards, almost touching the ground.

"Marcus Maritimus, champion of Bannihar, you should have listened to the stories." She took a step forward as he pulled himself back to a standing position. "When we charged, I cut straight through your front ranks to engage you and you just couldn't resist the chance of glory." Another step and he readied his weapon. "You chased me... and with every step and every strike, I lead you back. Back, into the ranks of my own men. If you look around, you'll find yourself quite surrounded now."

His eyes twitched sideways at the ranks of unfriendly colours and she sprang forward. He swung the hammer instinctively but the draconic body of his assailant seem to flow around it. Something bit into his left arm, throwing him off balance and he staggered to regain his footing. The pauldron on his left side hung limply, twisted and smashed from its clasp. He saw his own blood running down from it before he felt the pain spreading slowly, like hot wax, down his arm.

"Did you ever stop to think how it looked to your men? Locked in mortal combat with the demon, you disappeared into the enemy ranks and never came back." She circled to her right, crouched low with her weapon held out to her side. "They think you're already dead. They're killing themselves with confusion and fear." She feinted left, the swept right again, striking for his weakened side.

He'd been waiting for it. The side of her blade met the butt of the hammer with a metallic clang and he brought around the head with all his might but she was no longer there. Her stance dropped smoothly downward, blade swinging out away from him as she spun under his arm and rose behind his right shoulder. He didn't see her heavy blade come back around in a scything arc but he heard the shriek as it cleaved the metal of his back-plate and felt the cold steel streak a path across his shoulder blade. He stumbled forward, propelled by the force of the blow, and fell to his hands and knees.

"You should know that fear can be a deadlier weapon than any blade." She was already stood in front of him, one foot placed casually on the long handle of the hammer. Now that she wasn't moving, he could see that something looked wrong. It was as if the air around her was trying to escape her presence. It Rippled in a red haze, like a bloody glow rising from her armour.

Marcus let go of the hammer and sat back on his haunches, looking up at Artemisia. All he needed was a few seconds, just a few.

"So you're going to cut me down now? Is that it, bitch? Hah!" He bared his teeth and snarled at her to draw attention as he, very slowly, reached around to the small of his back. "That body of yours can't be holding together by more than spit and prayers. You're past your limit girl and I've not even gotten started." His fingers closed around the short handle and began to draw back. "You think you can kill me? Do it then! Fucking try!"

"I wanted to kill you slowly, to savour it, but I'm going to grant you an honour few on the battle field are accorded. I'm going to let you choose how you die." Calmly, she lifted her long weapon and brought the edge of the heavy blade to rest against the metal guard around the side of his neck.

He didn't wait for the question. Seizing his chance, he grabbed the edge of her breastplate with his free hand and yanked her suddenly towards him. As her blade slid over his shoulder, he pulled round the broad dagger and thrust it upward, finding purchase in slither of exposed ribcage. He pulled down on the armour and pushed up with the blade until he could feel it scraping against the metal on the far side. With one last push, he threw her limp form backwards and roared as her weapon tumbled down beside her.

Picking up his hammer from where it lay, he spat at the body. The sound of battle still roared around him, the eye of the storm seemed to be shrinking, enemies closing in. He stood, resting the weight of the hammer against his shoulder and shouted.

"I just killed your fucking demon, who wants to be next?" He could see figures in the twilight but none answered and none stepped forward. It seemed they were waiting for him to do something. He braced himself but before he could make a decision, he heard something that sent a shiver from his ears to his tail.

"Marcus Maritimus, champion of Bannihar, you should have listened to the stories." He couldn't stop himself turning to look, reason had suddenly deserted him. Surely, nobody could have survived that wound. He stared, unable to respond, his body frozen in shock.

She stood where he'd left her, wrapped in a crimson haze. The bodies of the fallen around trembled, the blood that covered them seeming to boil and feed the swirling red mist that gathered around her like a cloak. She was almost groaning, her breath fast and panting, and in her hand was the blade he'd driven through her chest, running with her own blood.

"I was trying so hard... to hold back... to be... civil." She dropped the dagger as her body convulsed, back arching and tail thrashing. Seemingly regaining control, she stooped to pick up her own weapon. "But it's gone too far now... I can't stop it anymore." Her words were more rapid, rushed in excitement as she took the first step into a charge. "You wanted so badly to face the demon, I hope you find satisfaction now."

Snapping back to some semblance of his senses, he turned to meet her. Bringing his hammer around and trying to judge a strike but her movements were entirely different to the warrior he'd faced before. She charged straight at him but her position kept shifting, swaying and sweeping in counter-balance to her weapon. She lunged for his belly and he stepped back, bringing his weapon down to block but her blade shifted downwards at the last moment and stabbed into the ground before his feet. Before he could react, she used it to vault, swinging a vicious kick at head height.

The large claws of her bare foot hooked into his cheek and tore clean through, leaving the ragged flesh flailing as the blow twisted him to the side. He pulled back, sweeping his weapon around again but the broad blade of her pole-arm was already rising, hitting home through the damaged armour of his left shoulder. It staggered him and his left arm trembled as he lost feeling and grip with that hand.

He made a desperate effort to wield the cumbersome hammer single-handed but he couldn't manage anything more than wild swings. Suddenly, the weight of the hammer was gone and his arm swung freely. It wasn't until the second swing that his mind caught up and the shattered stump of his wrist entered his conscious recognition. He howled, clutching at it with the fumbling fingers of his left hand as his legs were taken from under him and he crashed down onto his back. He couldn't even see her moving any more through the haze of pain and panic.

As he lay, he felt his arms knocked away from his chest and a sudden pressure forcing his body down into the mud. He tried to focus on the hellish figure that perched on the battered metal of his breastplate as it brought his war-hammer forward in its left hand, spun, and caught it with the heavy head facing downwards over his face.

"I can feel your life ebbing away as you bleed..." She took a deep breath and cocked her head to the side, as if listening to a distant noise. "...and I can taste the death of each soldier that falls. I draw strength from their suffering, and yours, and with each passing, the Goddess grants me rebirth."

"whu... urr... yuh...?" He couldn't make the words clear through the ragged remains of his muzzle.

"Marcus Maritimus, champion of Bannihar..." The quiet words were laced with anticipation.

"Uh... shud.. huf... liffund... tu..." The top of the hammer came down into his open mouth with a sickening crunch. Teeth broke and his jawbone snapped, breaking loose as the weight was forced further downward, crushing through his throat until it came to rest against the curved metal guard-plate around the back of his neck.

"...the stories... that say the demon cannot die."

Artemisia sat on the broken body and trembled. She could feel an errant rib popping back into place and the last of the blood draining from her lungs as the perforations closed. Around her, the dark mist howled. She'd been drawing too much power from the battle around her, stealing the strength of dying breaths. The energy enveloped and infused her body. The sensation was intoxicating, addictive, and the hunger for it was uncontrollable now.

She lifted the war-hammer to her face and ran her tongue along it slowly, tasting the blood of her fallen foe. He'd been so strong and he'd fought so hard, right until the end. As she straddled his mutilated body, she could feel him inside, filling her with surges of heat and pleasure as his strength became her own. Her body tensed and convulsed from the sheer ecstasy of the sensation and she screamed though clenched teeth, arching back as it overwhelmed her.

It was too late now, he'd pushed her too far and she had tasted too much of the precious life force released by the carnage. Her body shook, then relaxed, as she stopped fighting against it and surrendered. The red mist descended over her mind and from where a hero of Bannihar had fallen, a demon rose.