Hunted

Prologue

They do not know my name.
They only know me as the Ram.
I do not want my name known.
They may not know me, but I know everything about them.

The gates could not hold much longer. They continued to hammer at the wood with their huge battering ram and I knew that they would not stop until the gates opened, one way or another. I waded through the huge crowd, my wife and son close behind. The whole village had descended into anarchy, everyone followed the same path to the tunnel. I listened to the repetitive pounding on the gate. It was the only way into our village.
The guards beyond the wall fought valiantly against the Arabs, but they were heavily outnumbered and they knew, we knew, it was suicide. A sacrifice. The Arabs could not be pushed back, only delayed.

The tunnel was still a good distance away, and people had become careless, trampling anyone too slow to keep up with the crowd. The gates had begun to creak as they were hit, and I kept a firm hold of my family.

I knew at that time, we had a maximum of ten seconds left.

The gate burst open in a shower of wood and metal. The king's soldiers charged through the opening, throwing burning torches at buildings and quickly killing the brave villagers who had taken up arms in a last-ditch effort to defend the village.
Then, they went after the crowd. They slaughtered the elderly first, who were at the back and could not keep up. They did not hesitate, how could they slaughter people so defenceless?
Soon, they had caught up to the crowd, hacking away at the screaming, crying families. Their advance was relentless.