His ears were filled with countless piercing cries, as though they would rupture his eardrums—desperate sobs, frenzied curses, dying wails, and the murderous roars of the pursuers.
Thomas was swept along by the human tide like a leaf caught in a flood, running helplessly and tirelessly onward.
His mind was completely blank. Every thought, fear, and hatred seemed to have been drained away and forgotten in that ceaseless, desperate flight.
He had no idea which direction he was running, nor where safety lay. He merely followed the flow of people around him on instinct, moving legs as heavy as lead and running mechanically, numbly onward.
Suddenly!
From ahead came a muffled, urgent thunder of hooves, like dull thunder rolling across the ground! The sound drew nearer and louder, carrying an unstoppable, devastating force!
Thomas looked up in terror and saw a force of Sauron Cavalry—Harald's last loyal guard—charge headlong into the chaotic tide of routed soldiers like a raging whirlwind!
These cavalrymen clearly no longer cared about military discipline or fellowship. Wielding sharp Maces, heavy battle axes, and gleaming sabers, they hacked and smashed mercilessly at every routed soldier blocking their way!
Sharp Maces shattered skulls, heavy battle axes split shoulders, gleaming sabers sliced through necks, and blood sprayed everywhere like fountains!
The routed soldiers nearby let out even more terrified howls, shoving and fleeing desperately to either side as though avoiding a plague.
Thomas was shoved so hard by the madly surging crowd beside him that he lost his footing. He staggered forward several steps, tripped over something beneath his feet, lost his balance, and crashed heavily to the ground!
The cold, muddy ground mixed with blood slammed into his body, sending pain through him. He had no time to care about the pain or to get back up.