Maces crashed on the skeletons, shattering them hideously: not one fell or ceased to fight, so long as a single joint held two bones together.

Bones of men and horses lay scattered and heaped; grinding and crunching them under foot fought the skeletons.
Everywhere charged the bone-gaunt white steeds; everywhere on foot or on wind-blown misty battle-horses, raged and ravened and raved the indestructible spectres; weapons and hoofs clashed and crushed; while skeleton jaws and phantom-throats swelled the deafening tumult with the war-cry of every opinion, bad or good, that had bred strife, injustice, cruelty in any world.

The holiest words went with the most hating blow.
Lie-distorted truths flew hurtling in the wind of javelins and bones.
Every moment some one would turn against his comrades, and fight more wildly than before, THE TRUTH! THE TRUTH! still his cry.

One I noted who wheeled ever in a circle, and smote on all sides.

Wearied out, a pair would sit for a minute side by side, then rise and renew the fierce combat.