Kiljar stood next to Lugh. The man next to the god. Both towered over the others around them. But what chance did twenty men and a god have against another god with an army of demons?
Lugh could not wait any longer to find out. He gave a mighty bellow and charged. Kiljar and his men ran along with him, weapons raised. They plowed through demons of all shapes and sizes, hacking the single leg off of some, cutting the double heads off others.
Forward they pushed, but never seemed to gain any ground. A demon would fall and twenty more would take its place in battle. Metal clanged on metal. Wooden cudgels cracked against shields. Demons howled in pain and laughed in mockery. Kiljar cursed and swung his Atlantean blade in fury. Lugh speared demons by the dozens and more emerged.
Behind them all stood monstrous Balor. His deep laugh shook the earth. He had yet to open his giant destructive eye. He had no need. This measly band led by his grandson would make no dent in his army of supernatural beings.
Cut off now from any hope of escape, Lugh led the band of men onward, knowing Kiljar would fight to his own death and all his men were prepared to do the same.
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