There was no doubt in his heart that he would win.
Even as the massive bulls approached, walking up the hill toward their own small number, when they could see each other's beastly eyes he still felt invincible.
A kobel brought him his shield and spear just a minute before the minotaurs reached them. For now all the warriors had to do was delay them and this was made easier by those beasts not charging right in, content instead to just swing wide.
Because kobels even with spears lacked the reach to threaten them, so the bulls could just push a bit, strike and retreat if need be, with their enemies powerless to stop them.
To actually hurt those massive creatures would mean pushing forward, right into the midst of their weapons and get massacred. None was eager to do that. So it looked like a slow fight with each side pushing, and one being pushed back ever more.
Tunu's patience lapsed.
Each step back had angered him ever more, for it was as many admissions of the beasts' superiority on him and that, in turn, had his blood boil.
So he broke ranks, closed the distance in an instant and struck with his spear right into a minotaur's chest.
This low there was no cuirass, but just the thick hide was enough to resist the spearhead that slipped to the side, leaving a shallow trail.
A net fell on him.
On top of axes and maces there were a full minotaurs with tridents and nets. Those waited in the back for their moment. Now they had their prey, so one had ensnared the kobel. To them, scales or not, he was still just a weakling.
The net's weights could not hold him but, constrained, he could hardly put up a fight.
So the axe fell on him with a vengeance. His shield might as well not have been there; what remained of his arm, after the strike, fell limp on his side.
A mace finished him.
So, the kobels panicked. Seeing this the warriors lost all heart, turned around and fled. What few would have had the courage to still stand felt the group leave and, knowing better, followed them up the slope with the bulls fast behind them.
A desperate rearguard fight ensued, with warriors turning back, knowing they could not escape, to make the enemies slow down in turn and take those straddlers out.
Up on a lower plateau the tribe had assembled. Their chief had grouped all the able fighters he could get in three rows to offer just as many spears. Copper, wooden, it didn't matter. This was where they would stand.
At this spot, if they could hold, that wall could hope to funnel the enemies and not get surrounded.
But the warriors trickled in, in a panic, and almost shattered that shaky formation.
Elua was at the first row, holding a spear herself. She saw them rush to take shelter and saw Tunu was missing. Her heart sank at the bulls' bellows getting close. The chief was yelling for all to brace.
She could feel it, this moment when life became very simple and the body followed its own pace. Everything else had slowed down around her, yet time flowed just the same. She could feel it, this awareness life had when approaching its end.
The minotaurs emerged on the slope, approached and made no effort to bypass that frail defense.
On the contrary, they were all too amused and excited to break through. Once more the massive bulls slowed down to test that line that was already breaking at their approach.
So they charged.
Feeling that weakness the minotaurs let out a warcry and charged. And just as suddenly, before they even made contact, the first kobels turned around to flee.
The whole line disintegrated in a mad rush for safety.
Those with too much courage quickly found themselves let behind, faced the charge with all they had and had only moments to stand. Their body flailed and crashed in the crimson grass. The same fate awaited those too slow to escape.
Elua had fled like the rest. For all she had told herself she would stand, when the time came her heart had failed her. An absolute terror had sent her running blindly, break away to seek some hideout in the piles of rock and unfinished houses.
There, somewhere, she had to find a spot to crawl into and disappear.
Most of the minotaurs had run past, with just three of four lagging behind, turning to that plateau in search of loot. After all, it looked like constructions and pillage was in everyone's veins.
She screamed at their approach, which made them laugh. They watched her crawl away while they rummaged around, to find nothing.
Their mood soured quickly and one of them, frustrated, went for her.
She looked for her spear, realized she had long thrown it away. Not that, against such a beast, it would have been more than a miserable stick.
So the kobel screamed once more, rushed from the ground only to trip and fall against the stones of an early wall. There, as the bull towered above her, Elua huddled and closed her eyes.
There was, of course, someone to save her.
A scaled kobel leaped on the bulky beast and plunged its claws in its neck, slashed and cut the head. The body crashed on the ground and she opened her eyes, saw his beloved like she had never seen him before.
Bathed in blood.
A whole side, arm, shoulder and flank was just drenched. Headed bloodied as well, and then more of it spilled all over. He was heaving, gasping for air and more blood flowed from his lower jaw. Something monstrous filled his eyes.
The three minotaurs left on that plateau had seen it and, disturbed, bunched up to face that new enemy.
But he wasn't even looking at them. His head, slowly, had turned toward Elua. His eyes, slowly, had fallen on her and she felt the same terror wash over.
Still his voice emerged: "I swear..."
The minotaurs charged.
"I swear I'll... become a wyvern..."
And he wanted to smile but there was no strength, only a kind of mad rage that kept him going. He turned to the threat but wavered. He seemed exhausted.
"I'll become a wyvern... and protect you."
She saw the bull's axe fall straight down, cut the shoulder and only stop only after cracking several ribs. Her strangled scream had something desperate.
But his arm, the same arm that should have been dangling if not cut, took hold of that axe's handle, forced it out with a power that defied that of the minotaur who, in response, tried to punch with his free hand.
Tunu opposed his palm to that fist and, while his hand was half the size, he stopped it with ease, then pressed and the beast's arm swelled, then burst.
And Tunu's body was healing. The wound that had cut through his torso from shoulder to belly had almost vanished already. It was horrifying for the bulls and for her, and for himself, but he was barely aware anymore.
"I'll become a wyvern and protect everyone!"
What for the minotaur was a one-handed axe was too bulky for the kobel, yet he still turned it around and, holding it with both arms, slashed the beast. It fell right there.
Two more attacked. He threw that weapon away and just lunged, jumped at the first to plunge his claws, to plunge his jaws and fangs. He threw himself at the second the moment the first wobbled and fell. He kept digging into the second's chest with rage.
He was shaking, he was mad. And ravenous.
She watched her love starting to devour the flesh.