We never made it to the door; the barbarians were coming too fast and we had to stop and fight as they reached us. Meran took two from behind and then it became chaotic.
Meran fought like a barbarian. Posing, shouting, intimidating. He was one of them and it showed. He needed to work himself up to attack and so did they. By comparison Sapphire was just killing people. It was what he was doing and nothing else. A barbarian shouted and lunged and Sapphire killed him. Another screamed and charged and died. There was no emotion in Sapphire as he fought. He was aware, each movement sure and controlled, every action certain. His face was expressionless, focused, concentrating on the job in hand. And me; I was fighting for my life and analyzing the difference between my companions. Insanity comes in many forms.
Gatren was an additional concern. He was trying to cast and I had to counter him, even though I had no idea what spells he might have learned, I knew for sure I didn't want to find out right now. His problem was his own men and the chaos of the fray. Mine was that I had to watch him and defend myself at the same time. A gap would open and he would stab out with his fist clenched, I would do the same, countering whatever ugly spell he was attempting. The numbers of his own allies hindered him; they were intent on us and not thinking to get out of his way so he could cast clean. His attention was focused on me, the inhibitor of his magic. And I was focused on him for the same reason. I could not spray hot oil everywhere while he was countering my spells and he could not do whatever he was doing while I was countering his. Meanwhile his men were dying.
I blocked a blow with my blade and stepped in with a short chop to the throat which ended in his eyes as he ducked in turn. Stepping aside I countered Gatren's spell and then thrust my blade into the staggering barbarian's floating ribs. Leaping back as his fellow stop-thrust for my chest. Sapphire continued to move through them calmly, each blow deadly, constantly moving, totally aware and focused on what he was doing and oddly calm as he killed and maimed. We were winning, and then something hit me a blow to the back of the head and I was suddenly on my hands and knees staring dully at the carpet. I moved, unthinking, half falling to my left, weight on one hip, legs tucked up and slashed wildly at whatever hit me. The blade made no contact and the world spun around me. I think I must have been struck again but I have no recollection of that.