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"What fear you then from walking closer to this old man then...Do you keep your distance from fear?" Agamemnon sneered at her.

Then without warning he leapt at Penthesilea, both his swords held out ready to strike as if he wanted to disable her arms before going in for the kill. The Amazon Queen saw the move coming and back pedalled as quickly as she could to get out of the way of the flashing blades. She moved quickly enough to not be impaled by the swords but not quickly enough as one of them cut her left forearm open, releasing a stream of crimson to drip onto the dirt floor beneath them.

All around the fighting pair the Greek arrows still fell, most hitting the naked earth but some hitting the men and women fighting for their lives under the blazing sun as it made its relentless way across the sky. Penthesilea only hoped that Hector could do something about the feathered arrows of death that rained down from the sky.

Clenching her teeth to try and ignore the throbbing pain in her arm and decided that her earlier strategy of avoidance was not working, she needed to be more pro-active in this fight. Penthesilea fixed the Greek King with a steely glare and began to swing her axe as she moved towards him, the head of her weapon flashing in the sun. Then with the speed of a lunging cat, she struck out at him with a cry of rage, putting all of her effort into that one thrust.

He smiled at the blood and from the corner of his eyes spotted Hector charging the archers, "Faster, harder!" He called out never taking his eyes from the woman before him, she was a wild card strong and brave. He smirked now and took a defensive stance, expecting anything.

He saw the lunge and parried it at the last second, his other sword circling around and smashing into the wooden pole that held the axe's head. He smiled and followed the sword with his foot trying to break the axe, his second sword flashing out at the woman, his breath heavy and ragged once more. This fight was beginning to take its toll on him and he needed to end it quickly.

The screams of the men around him filled the air, the dying and those killing formed an macabre symphony. The clash of steel and thud of bone and limb, the grunts of both sides from the force of impact. He stomped once more on the pole that held the axe's head, he was intent on either breaking it or going down fighting.

Engaged in a barrage of soldiers who stood between his crusaders and the Grecian archers, Hector heard the high energy squall of a woman who had slashed her way through where he had failed. Admiring her barbarity, he threw his sword arm forwards and bellowed a war cry that ached in the tensed muscles of his throat.

The few soldiers who fought at his side renewed a burst of speed and quickly dispersed the human impasse, allowing the Prince to pass through and assist the Amazon women to remove the threat which the archers imposed upon Penthesilea. It was an all consuming thought that she be giving every opportunity to put Agamemnon in a position of defeat or surrender.

Through the muddle of tones; deep guttural grunts and piercing screams, his heart constricted in his chest as he heard her cry out, knowing it was her and not another. Hector gritted his teeth as he sliced through soft flesh without pause and drove himself through the assemblage like a wedge, dividing the archers into two groups.

A burning pain caught his shoulder and the warm stickiness of blood soaked through his shirt as one lucky bastard found his mark. The Prince spun and without noticing if the man flinched, his sword impaled his blade deep into the man’s chest, blind anger superseding all other thought.

Using his shield as a battering ram, Hector pounded his way through the regiment of arrow throwers while those following under his command picked off the stragglers who left the protection of the throng. They were weakening the advantage by Swiss cheesing their strategic line and disrupting the unity of their timed release.

A soft breath grazed his ear and a brilliant collage of stars filled his head as a bludgeoning blow staggered him forwards into the path of another Trojan who quickly took up the fight and saved Hector from a mace wielding archer who had changed his forte of battle.

Water filled his eyes as his knees struck dirt, half crawling as he lurched forwards. A few quick moments later, his eyesight cleared and, although a migraine tightened at his temples, the Trojan Prince regained his footing and found his sword arm in motion again, determination behind each powerful sweep of his steel upon the enemy.

Penthesilea's attempted lunge fell onto thin air as the Greek King parried it with one of his duel swords, metal clanging loudly onto metal as the two weapons struck each other. As the two weapons struck each other, Agamemnon used the other sword in his hands to strike out at the wooden shaft of the Amazon's axe which forced it down, almost to the ground. A couple of splinters of wood flew up, narrowly missing Penthesilea's face but the axe held firm.

The Greek then stamped on the wooden shaft with his foot, still trying to break the weapon. He stamped down so hard that he almost dislodged the axe from her hand but Penthesilea was able to hold on with gritted teeth. Then Agamemnon followed that move up with an attack using his other sword, the blade flashing as it came towards her.

As Penthesilea moved out of the way of the lunging sword she could see that the Greek was beginning to tire, his breath was becoming heavy and he was panting ever so slightly. He tried once more to break her axe with his boot but her weapon was made for war and woud not break all that easily.

"Give it up already," Penthesilea snarled at his futile attempts. Somewhere in the back of her mind she was aware of the fact that there were fewer arrows raining down on the battlefield. "Looks like Hector is getting rid of your pesky archers," she added. "Why don't you just leave and go back to Greece before you get all of your army killed here."

He grit his teeth and gave one last stomp, his foot hit the wood at a bad angle now and slid, he heard a small pop but he knew it was just sprained and not broken...This would turn the tide of battle in her favor, it was not good, "Woman, you will know your place." He smirked darkly and let out a shrill whistle. His horse came towards him and with out even stopping his mount he was in the saddle dropping on of the swords.

"You may fight as a man but you do not think as one, he who has the highest ground has the advantage." He laughed and favored his ankle as he rode around and pulled a pike from a dead amazonian, turning quickly he spun it and looked at the woman, "I have the advantage of speed, leverage and strength..." He started at her, focused only on her, then, a searing a pain in his right shoulder, the pike falling from his hands he halted quickly. An amazonian had grabbed a bow and fired an arrow, she was a good shot and had found her mark.

"Women, your soldiers fight bravely and with the same ferocity as my men..." He rounded on her again and gave three short whistles, his men in turned whistled and began to rally on him, "Think not that this is a retreat it is but a tactical with drawl...For now we leave to treat the wounded and redouble our forces but worry not...I will return for you...I will have you as my slave...or I may just give you to my dogs..." He gave one more whistle and a horn sounded, slowly then circled their king as he moved out watching them, "This is not over...trust me...It will never be over!"

His sword cut swift and true into the mail armor of the Greek archers, the ground soaking up the splattering of blood that ran down his sword as he pushed forwards. A combination of sweat and blood invaded his nostrils with a foul stench that drew vultures to circle wide around the circumference of the battlefield, elegantly diving down to pick at the carrion that lay to waste. Their hideous screeches reminded him of wailing women and his shoulders cringed as he bunched up his biceps for another mighty swing, lopping an opponent’s head clean off. It hit the ground with a dull thud and rolled, splattering several dark rivulets along its path.

A few quick strides forwards brought him in contact with the skull, delivering a forceful kick that sent the severed head flying through the air and smashing into a massive trunk with a sickening splat that stained the tree with crimson fingers of blood. It bounced and rolled beneath a shrub as he scowled and turned to view the scene on the battlefield. A small group of Greeks had cornered an Amazon soldier and were trying to get the best of her, although she fought bravely. Hector was too far away to assist her properly and quickly took stock of his surroundings to search for a bow, either dropped or attached to a corpse.

Bending at the knee, he grabbed at the limp arm of a Greek archer and yanked it upwards to free the hand strap that secured the longbow. Quickly spinning on his heel, he positioned the weapon into a tight fist and affixed an arrow into the nock while simultaneously pulling back the string. The taut leather bindings creaked as he raised it to eye level and sighted his target. The warrioress had taken one soldier down with a sure strike to his midsection, blood spilling out over his hands as he clutched his fatal wound with both hands and fell, staring with vacant eyes at her. Without missing a beat, she rendered a vicious attack on the other s.

Hector held his breath as he leveled the point of the arrow slightly above and to the wind side of the scuffle, a silent prayer spoken in his head that his aim be sure and quick. The swift moving activity made singling out a difficult task and he could only wait for an opportune time to release the projectile with a wing and a prayer.
Twang!
The arrow sped through the air as the fighters continued their deadly dance, oblivious to the hushed whiz of a fletched arrow cutting through the air. The target darted behind another and for a panicked moment, the Trojan Prince thought for sure that the Amazon would step into the line of fire but the arrow passed unscathed past her shoulder and impaled one of the Grecians, reeling him back with surprise and disbelief. He was not mortally wounded, however and after breaking off the shaft, resumed the fight.

A quick second arrow followed, and a third; successfully dropping one soldier and wounding another. Her odds of survival improved as the wounded men lost precious blood by the exertion of battle and weakened to be easily succumbed to the wield of her axe. The battle was nearly over with the Amazons and Trojans now outnumbering the Greek invaders. A shrill whistle turned his attention back to Penthesilea and her opponent.

As Agamemnon mounted his horse, the only thing that the Amazonian Queen could think was that he talked too much. Then an arrow struck the Greek King in the shoulder causing him to wince with the sudden pain. She glanced around and saw that it was one of her women who had fired the shot and she gave a brief salute of thanks in her direction before focusing once more on her mounted opponent.

"Women, your soldiers fight bravely and with the same ferocity as my men..." He whistled to get his men to rally at his point. "Think not that this is a retreat it is but a tactical with drawl...For now we leave to treat the wounded and redouble our forces but worry not...I will return for you...I will have you as my slave...or I may just give you to my dogs..." He gave one more whistle and a horn sounded, slowly then circled their king as he moved out watching them, "This is not over...trust me...It will never be over!"

Penthesilea sneered at the King as he retreated. "I would rather be given to your dogs than be taken by you," she replied to his earlier comment. "They have more courage and smell better," she mocked.

Backing slowly away, the Amazon looked around to see what the butcher's bill would be for that fight. All around lay the dead and the dying; Greek, Trojan and Amazon. She looked wearily over to where Hector was standing and gave him a brief smile. "My thanks for coming out to meet us, cousin," she said to him as she moved over to his position, her attention never wavering from the retreating Greeks just in case they decided to launch a counter-attack.