I’d been a military man all my life, not as active as I used to be now, but I had my usefulness. A lifetime of experience that I could pass on to the newer generation. I had seen action in four wars, under two separate rulers, on three different continents. I had experience and firsthand knowledge of what it was like to defend our home when enemies were at the gates and an array of tactics when storming the enemy’s front.

I would sit with several soldiers and run over battle strategies and defenses of the capital. Explaining weak spots and counter attack techniques. They ranked me as a commander of the first legion, which garnered me with respect among the lower ranks, if not with my peers. Age can be a fickle thing.

I would look up this Kaleb, Benack seemed so proud, and he was a good man. A little kindness, a word in an ear, can make all the difference to some people’s lives. If they considered him for promotion, he must have qualities and skills needed for position. A recommendation from a commander will distinguish him out.

As I turned the third corner of the back alley streets leading to the barracks, I could see two men holding another, one in each of his arms, pinning him up against the rear wall of a bakery. Another much taller man stood in front, his palm around his victim’s neck, his face pressed against the others. The tall man pushed his hand forward, thrusting the confined man’s head backward. It ricocheted off the wall and snapped back as if on a coiled spring. The tall man took one step back and raised his hand into a fist.

My instincts took over. Three against one is always an unfair fight, but to restrain a man while he is beat, is beyond deplorable. Only cowards take such action.

“Hi there, is everything alright.” I called out, trying to sound as least threatening as possible. “Is there a problem here, I’m confident we can work this out.”

My words distracted the tall man, and he turned to face me. He was as tall as I had seen a man, at least a head above me, and I was no small man. He was heavyset, markings all down his arms and what looked like raised beads under his skin that ran across his face and over his bare head.

“Beat it old timer, this doesn’t concern you.” He retorted, spitting on the floor and shifting back to his victim.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that, son. Now why don’t we all calm down and sort this out like men.” Not the wisest of words, I knew as soon as they had left my mouth. But my heart was racing, and I had to act quick.

“Like men, you say old timer, then let’s see what you’re made of” The beaded man said, walking towards me with his fists held up. He sniffed and adjusted his shoulders, setting himself up for a fight. The same way a crater wolf bares down on its front legs, its head rolling from side to side, ready to strike.

I was undoubtedly out matched here, even in my youth this would have been a challenge. Keeping my cane at my side, my grip tightening around the shaft. I had to time this perfectly, I wouldn’t get a second chance. When the beaded man was just a few feet away, I saw my opening. He leaned his right shoulder back ever so slightly, coiling to strike out.

I ducked down, my knees cracking under the quick action, I thrust the handle of my cane upwards with all my strength just as the beaded man swung an arching punch at where my head had just been. The head of the cane struck true in the centre of his rib cage. I heard the satisfying snap of bones. Then a sharp pain in my arm as I dropped my cane.

The snap of bones was not from the beaded man but from me, my wrist hung limp. The force of the strike shattered the bones in my lower arm, the pain was sharp but brief as my hand went numb.

My cane had done some damage to the beaded man. His forward movement and my strike had knocked the wind from him and he went flying backwards, his head impacting the cobbled floor. He lay motionless as a small pool of blood formed at the back of his head.

“Why you!” one of the two men who had been holding the other in place shouted as he ran towards me. This man was shorter, and a lot rounder than the others. His speed was nowhere near as fast. Saying that, he was a lot quicker than me. I looked around, my cane had tumbled away, I couldn’t reach it in time before this bulbus man was on top of me.

Timing was my only ally again. As the man reached me, he stretched out his hands to grab hold of me. I ducked again and dipped my shoulder. Pushing up with all my weight, I drove myself into the oncoming man. His size and momentum carrying him over my shoulder, flipping him through the air. He landed with a loud crack and tumbled several feet before coming to a stop in a tangled heap.

I cried with pain as my shoulder popped out of place. My right leg gave way from all the strain and I fell to my knee. My breathing was heavy as I tried to catch my breath. There’s one left, I thought. Sucking in a deep breath through gritted teeth, I raised myself back up. Grabbing a fist size stone that had loosened from the floor during the commotion.

The third attacker looked on in shock. Apparently he hadn’t imagined a frail old man could take out his two friends with so much ease. I didn’t give him a chance to recover. I launched the stone with my left hand, my arm burning with pain, striking the man in the side of his head. His grip on the other man went loose, and he fell to the floor.

Panting and wheezing, I grabbed my walking stick and headed over to the poor man who was still cowering against the wall. He stood crunched up, looking at me with wide eyes. I must admit I was pretty amazed myself. I had taken on three much younger and fitter men than myself and won.

I hadn’t come out of the altercation unscathed, my right wrist shattered, and I could barely stand, but glancing at the three men motionless on the floor, I felt satisfaction, I still had some fight left in me. Not too bad for an old man.

“Are you ok son, you’re not hurt are you?” I said as I looked him over. Son might have been the wrong choice of word again. He might have even been older than I. He was skinny, short, with a feral look about him. His long silver hair running wildly down his back. “Are you ok, what’s your name?”

He smiled up at me and straightened himself. Looking just a pale shadow of the scared person I had only seen moments ago. “I am fine, thankyou for your help. The names, Viggias. I would never have guessed…. Wait, no! Not yet.” The silver-haired man said as a sharp pain shot up my side.

My head went light and the feelings in my arms went dull. I turned my head to the side to see the beaded man standing right next to me. One arm on my shoulder and the other pushed into my side. I coughed and blood pooled in my mouth; the warmth making me feel sick. The beaded man took a step back, a metal blade covered in dark red blood, pulling out of my side as he did.

I stumbled backwards in disbelief, trying to rationalise what had just happened. My legs gave way, and I fell, the grey-haired man catching me, and lowering me gently to the floor, as easily as laying a newborn baby down to rest. A loud thunder roared from the skies and rain fell in torrents. Bouncing back up off the cobbled street as I lay in this stranger’s arms bleeding out.

My eyes streamed with the rain, it covered my face and mixed with the blood still coming from my mouth. I tried to talk, but only garbled noises came out. This was it, this was how I was to bow out of this world, Myia.

A hand wiped the rain from my eyes as the grey-haired man lent over me, still cradling me in his arm. I could see his three attackers standing motionless behind him. “Thank you again,” he said. “Now rest, it will be over soon. The pain will ease.”

I tried to fight the light-headedness, why was he thanking me, his attackers were still there. Just standing there, doing nothing. Had I been the victim of some cruel deception. I tried to say something but coughed up more blood. My body went numb and the world around me went dark.

“He’s gone,” I could hear a voice say. As a feeling of dread ran through my mind. I’d always thought of dying as something noble. An act of bravery even, laying down your life for honour, for justice for the king. This, however, felt like none of that, and I don’t mind saying that it frightened me.

The world around me had gone black, I couldn’t feel any pain, nor the rain pouring down on me, I couldn’t feel anything. I wasn’t even breathing, my chest lay still. For seventy winters, my chest had risen and fell in a rhythmic beat of life. The now strangeness of stillness, foreign and frightening. I was dead and trapped inside my mind.

I could hear the voices talking beside me in muffled conversation, when loud eruptions filled the world around me, drowning out all other sounds. Was this death trapped in darkness forever, not able to see or speak. Not able to feel anything. I drifted, images of my life played over in my mind as the cacophony of explosions grew louder around me.