'Come on, let's get you out of here.'
'Tristo, behind you,' Longo whispered, pointing past his friend to where Ulu was striding across the field towards them. Tristo rose and turned to face him.
'Don't worry. I'll take care of this bugger.'
As Ulu approached, he grabbed one of the other janissaries running to confront Tristo and pushed him aside. 'This one is mine,' Ulu barked. The two huge men faced off, each pausing to size the other up. Tristo was a good three inches taller than Ulu and heavier, but whereas Tristo was bulky, the janissary general was tightly muscled, without an ounce of fat. Ulu held his long yatagan sword with one hand and swung it lightly from side to side. Tristo gripped his own mighty longsword with both hands.
Ulu attacked first, springing forward with surprising speed and slashing for Tristo's gut. Tristo knocked the blow aside with his sword, then spun and chopped down at Ulu's head. Ulu jumped back out of the way, and Tristo pressed the attack, slicing upwards towards Ulu's chest. Ulu blocked the blow, and their swords locked together, bringing them close. Each man strained against the other, their teeth gritting and biceps bulging. 'You're a strong son of a bitch, aren't you?' Tristo growled. 'But the bigger they are, the easier it is for me to do this.' And with that, he head-butted Ulu in the face, and at the same time, brought his knee up hard into the janissary's groin.
Ulu stumbled backwards, his guard open, and Tristo stabbed for his chest. For a second, Longo thought that the blow would succeed, but then Ulu's sword swept back, deflecting the blow at the last second. Still, Tristo's sword sliced through the side of Ulu's armour, which was soon wet with blood. The injury, however, seemed to only enrage Ulu. With a roar, he went on the offensive, forcing Tristo to retreat under a series of heavy blows. Despite all his fury, however, Ulu could not penetrate Tristo's guard. Then, Ulu made a mistake. As Tristo retreated, Ulu lunged too far forward, tripping over a dead body. Tristo stepped in for the kill, slicing down for Ulu's neck. But the janissary had only pretended to stumble. Ulu sidestepped the blow, knocked Tristo's sword aside, and then reversed the direction of his own sword. He caught Tristo in the side of the head, cleaving his skull open and killing him instantly.
A wordless, primal scream burst from Longo. His heart pounded and rage coursed through him, washing away the pain in his chest. He stood and cast his shield aside, gripping his sword with both hands. Then he charged. Ulu waited for him to come and at the last second swung hard for Longo's head. Longo ducked the blow and thrust at Ulu's gut. Ulu parried, and as their swords met, pain knifed through Longo's chest, almost making him drop his sword. Longo staggered back, and Ulu took advantage, attacking with a vicious overhead blow. Longo spun away from the sword, and as he completed his spin, kicked out, catching Ulu square in the stomach. Ulu hardly moved. It was as if Longo had kicked a wall. Longo bounced back, barely managing to avoid another slicing blow from Ulu's yatagan. The two men paused, and their eyes met. 'I spared you before,' Ulu said. 'I will have no mercy this time, Longo.'
'Nor will I,' Longo growled, and gritting his teeth against the pain in his chest, he went on the offensive, pressing Ulu with a series of quick lunges and slashes. Ulu gave ground, but Longo could not penetrate his defence. Again and again Longo thought that his sword would surely strike home, only for Ulu's huge yatagan to sweep back at the last second, deflecting Longo's blow. Longo felt himself weakening, but then caught sight of Tristo's body out of the corner of his eye. At the sight of his fallen friend, he attacked with a renewed fury. He slashed down to lower Ulu's guard, and then, mustering all of his strength, swung for Ulu's head. Somehow, Ulu again blocked the blow. Their swords locked, bringing them close together, and with his free hand, Ulu grabbed the crossbow bolt protruding from Longo's chest and twisted it. Longo gasped in pain, his knees weak and the world momentarily dim. He recovered just in time to duck a blow that would have decapitated him.
Now Ulu was on the attack, and each time Longo was forced to parry, he grunted as blinding pain tore through him. He gave ground steadily, dodging and ducking so as to avoid having to parry. Ulu slashed at Longo's belly, and this time when Longo retreated back out of the way he came up against the wall of Constantinople. There was no more room. Ulu swung hard, and when Longo parried the blow, their two swords locked together. Longo cried out in pain as he strained against Ulu, but he was no match for the janissary's strength. Ulu pushed Longo into the jagged stonework of the battered wall, and gradually the two locked blades began to inch closer to Longo's face. 'Goodbye, old friend,' Ulu said.
'Not yet,' Longo replied. 'This is for Tristo.' He let go of his sword and dropped to one knee. As Ulu fell forward above him, Longo grabbed the crossbow bolt in his chest and with a scream, tore it free. Then, before Ulu could recover his balance, Longo rose and drove the bolt into the janissary's throat. Ulu dropped his sword and staggered backwards, clutching at his neck. He pulled the bolt out, and a fountain of blood gushed after it. Ulu stared at the bolt for a moment, and then tumbled forward, dead.
Longo picked up his sword, took a few steps, and then collapsed beside Ulu. He looked down to where each beat of his heart was pumping more and more blood out of the wound in his chest. He let his sword fall from his hand and waited for one of the janissaries to finish him. But to his surprise, none attacked. Instead, they kept a wide berth, looking at him with expressions of open-mouthed awe. One of the janissaries cried out in alarm that Ulu had fallen, and as word of Ulu's death spread, the Turkish attack began to falter. Longo watched as many of the janissaries near him began to retreat. Those that fought on seemed confused and unsure of what to do. Not far from Longo, Constantine had rallied the men and was beginning to push back the janissaries.
'Longo!' someone called, and Longo looked to see William running towards him.
'William,' Longo gasped, wincing in pain as he spoke. 'Where is Sofia?'
'In the city,' William said as he knelt beside Longo. 'You're hurt! We have to get you out of here. Can you stand?'
Longo nodded. 'You should not have left her,' he said, gritting his teeth as he grabbed his sword and struggled to his feet with William's help. He stood unsteadily, covering the wound in his chest with his left hand. 'She may be in danger.'
'She made me come, and I'm glad she did. You wouldn't have lasted much longer out here. Now come on. Let's get back to the line.'
With William's help, Longo staggered to where Constantine and Dalmata had formed a new line of troops and were pushing the Turks back towards the gap in the outer wall. As Longo and William passed through the line, Constantine stepped away from the battle to join them.
'Longo, you're alive!' he exclaimed, then frowned as he noticed Longo's wound. 'Are you all right?'
'I live,' Longo grunted. He shrugged off William's help. 'I will fight so long as I can stand.'
Constantine looked at Longo sceptically. 'That is no minor wound, Longo. There is nothing more that you can do here.'
'It is my duty to fight,' Longo insisted. 'I will not fail you.'
'You have not failed me, Longo. You have done all that you can. Now, there is only one last thing that I ask of you: go to Sofia, make sure that she is safe.' Longo began to protest, but Constantine held up his hand, cutting Longo off. 'Say nothing. I have eyes, and I am not a fool, Longo. I know love when I see it. Go to her. I will hold the wall.'
'Thank you, Emperor,' Longo said. The two men clasped hands, and then the emperor returned to the battle. Longo turned to William. 'I will look after Sofia,' he told him. 'You may stay and fight if you wish.'