by VJ Dunraven
Colonel Gunter knew that escape wouldn’t be easy. Engaging in combat while trying to protect Elizabeth would greatly hamper his abilities. He could've finished off John Drake, but his focus was unfairly divided and time was of the essence. “Major Greer! Clear the way and cover for us!”
The Major and his men efficiently modified their formation into an inverted triangle and began to push forward. The enemy came at them in rapid succession. Almost immediately, their progress halted. His men were fighting ten to one, the clink of their swords deafening, body armors covered in blood. They were doomed to lose.
Colonel Gunter glanced at Elizabeth. Terror was written all over her face, but for them to hold off until reinforcements came, he knew he must support his men.
“Stay inside the perimeter,” he pulled her towards the center, “and watch out for the swords.”
Her eyes widened, but she didn't object.
“I need to help my men.” He handed her one of the daggers from his belt. “If anything goes wrong, use this to defend yourself.” He closed her fingers over the hilt. “Don't wait for me, do you understand?”
“No!” Her eyes glazed with tears.
“Don't wait for me!” He let go of her hand and threw himself into battle.
Chapter 62
Battle of the Descendants (Part III)
Elizabeth stood trembling in the middle of the safe circle, increasingly aware that the protective boundary around her was rapidly shrinking. Major Greer and his men fought bravely, but they had sustained wounds and were weary. Chad took on the most number of enemies, but he was only one man and couldn't be everywhere at once.
Suddenly, she was seized from behind. Startled, the dagger slipped from her grasp to the ground. An arm coiled around her neck in a headlock. She shifted her weight and kicked backwards.
“Easy, Princess.”
She would never forget that voice. It had come from the same attacker who had killed her mom. He wrapped another arm about her, restraining her arms against her waist. She buckled her knees, but he effortlessly dragged her away. Her gaze wandered to the mayhem surrounding them.
Major Greer and his men were deep in combat and Chad had more than his share of opponents. And now, this madman and his comrades were successfully hauling her towards the perimeter breach.
She drew what breath she could from his suffocating hold, and screamed.
Colonel Gunter swiveled at the sound of her piercing cry.
A dangerous mistake. The split-second distraction cost him a stab at the back. He swung around, neatly lopping off the perpetrator's head, but another two took his place. He caught sight of Elizabeth. John Drake had taken her! He felt a cut on his shoulder. Angered, he gashed the culprit's belly with his sword.
More men moved in, but his attention was elsewhere. He needed to get to Elizabeth before she and John disappeared without a trace!
A searing pain lanced through his left side. He gasped for breath. Someone had struck him and hit his lung. He swerved his sword at the offender on his right and swiftly cut his torso into two. But an endless stream of foes simply replaced him.
He surveyed his position.
Major Greer and the rest of the men had been swallowed into the swarm of the Duke's army. He estimated the time that had elapsed—, perhaps fifteen minutes or more had passed. Anytime now, General Bradford's reinforcements would arrive. However, he wasn't certain if the Major, his men, and even himself, would survive this extensive assault until then.
For the first time in his career, Colonel Gunter elected to retreat from the enemy in front of him. His mission was to keep Elizabeth safe. He'd promised to protect her. And so heedless of the wounds he'd suffered, he fought his way into hostile territory and gave chase to John Drake.
John Drake was furious. Elizabeth was fighting every inch of the way and Colonel Gunter was swiftly catching up. “Colonel Reynolds! Take some men with you and fall back! I'll make a diversion to distract Colonel Gunter. Make your move from behind!”
Colonel Reynolds nodded and immediately disappeared with his men into the crowd.
John Drake stopped in the middle of the street and swung Elizabeth around with her back against him. He held her by the throat with one hand and pointed a dagger over her heart with the other.
Colonel Gunter instantly stopped in his tracks from a few yards away and drew his sword, approaching them with slow, calculated steps.
“Stay back!” John Drake spotted Colonel Reynolds and his men sneaking up behind him.
“Chad! Look out!” Elizabeth shrieked.
Colonel Gunter knew it was a trap. He moved just in time to avoid the thrust of a sword to his left. Another blade swished close to his ear. He swung his weapon low, slicing an assailant's thigh. His shoulder blade stung. He need not look to know how seriously it had been cut.
He saw the gleam of a blade overhead. A loud clink sounded as he raised his sword and their cutting edges collided.
He felt a rip on his side. His flank burned and contracted. But before it even subsided, another nick elicited a twinge that spiraled up his leg. He disengaged his weapon with a forceful shove—, only to parry with more swords than he could handle at once.
Damn it! How many more were there?
They came at him in an endless stream. Every painful gash he received, he could hear Elizabeth's anguished squeals. His body ached all over. He needed space to recuperate, but the likelihood was impossible. One wound would barely close, merely to be replaced by another. His physical resistance was struggling to keep up.
“Colonel Gunter!” His attention switched to John Drake just as he ripped Elizabeth's dress down the front. “Take a good look at what you can never have!” he jeered.
Colonel Gunter growled in rage and charged towards him. He wanted to tear John Drake apart and mince his flesh.
“Chad! Behind you!” Elizabeth's desperate shout penetrated his wrath-filled brain.
But her warning came too late.
Excruciating pain radiated from his back and traversed through his heart. He looked down to see the anchored tip of a dagger protruding from his chest. One of the Duke's Officers had staked him from the back.
He staggered to a halt and swiveled, swinging his sword in a wide arc. The Officer's head flew off in a rain of blood. Colonel Gunter grimaced at the piercing pain in his chest from his sudden movement. His sword slipped from his grip with a loud clang unto the pavement, next to a gleaming silver eagle pin that had fallen off the Officer's uniform.
From a few paces away, he could hear Elizabeth's panicked cries and saw the crisp slap on her face that John Drake dealt her.
No. He couldn't die now and leave her with this monster. Not without a good fight!
He clamped both hands on the hooked tip of the dagger and pulled it off his chest. Then, he grabbed his sword and hacked every foe that dared block his way. Through his hazy vision, he saw the fear in John Drake's eyes before he flung Elizabeth to the ground and deflected his sword with his own.
They engaged in a flurry of attacks, thrusting and parrying, blades sparking on contact. If he were in better condition, he would've dispensed of the Duke in a few strokes, but he'd lost a lot of blood and the mortal wound to his heart left him half-coherent. His ravaged body needed rest to recover.
Their blades locked. John Drake was a formidable swordsman. Colonel Gunter knew without a doubt as his reflexes slowed, that this would be his first losing battle. With the last of his fading strength, he heaved his sword forcefully to throw off John Drake, and then rushed to Elizabeth's side. She was sprawled on the same spot where John had tossed her, shaking violently in fright. “You must go!” He hauled her to her feet. “Go! Save yourself!”
Her shrill scream coincided with the terrible cracking of his spine. John had driven his sword between his shoulder blades, sawed it downwards in a single stroke through bone and cartilage, splitting his heart.
Colonel Gunther lurched forward and felt his vigor slip away.
/> It was time.
There was nothing more he could do.
“I-I'm sorry... I-I couldn't protect you—” he coughed and choked, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth.
“Oh, God! Chad! No ... no!” Elizabeth stared at him with tear-filled, petrified eyes. She caught him as he fell on his knees on the pavement.
“Go—!” Colonel Gunter swallowed the flood of his own blood in his throat. “Go without me—” a series of violent coughs deluged him.
She vehemently shook her head. “No! Chad! Oh God, please—stay with me!” Tears cascaded down her cheeks, as she cradled him on her lap.
Just as his eyesight began to fail, he heard her whisper in his ear. “I love you, Chad.” She stroked his hair with a trembling hand and kissed him on the forehead. “I will love you, always.”
He tipped the corner of his mouth in a semblance of a smile.
She sobbed and pressed quivering lips to the dimple on his chin.
Me too, Princess ... he had wanted to say, but he could only think the words, before he closed his eyes and slid into the black, bottomless chasm of death.
Chapter 63
Battle of the Descendants (Part IV)
Prince William sprung from his motorcycle as it skidded to a halt on the pavement, landing on his feet in the middle of the smoke-hazed battleground. The mile-long carnage blocking the road had delayed their arrival longer than expected at the heart of the scene.
They were no more than twenty minutes behind Colonel Gunter, and yet, the disaster those few precious minutes had caused was evident in the massacre before him. Dismembered bodies' combusted everywhere, the stench of burning flesh soaring in the cold winter night. The asphalt motorway was covered in blood, glistening like a winding serpent in the moonlight. Not far behind him, he could hear his cousins arriving together with General Bradford's men.
The Prince stood in his distinctive combat suit, unarmed, slowly sweeping his glowing silver eyes at the Duke's men, who were in the process of eliminating remains.
They immediately recognized him.
He waited for them to raise a challenge.
No one dared make a move.
He took a few steps forward.
The few battle-worn survivors quietly parted, fear, and exhaustion unmistakable in their faces.
A man bathed in blood pushed to the front and staggered before him. “Your Highness.” He paused, panting. “My name is Major Greer. The Princess—, John Drake took her.”
Prince William was instantly filled with a sense of dread. “Where—, and how long ago?”
Major Greer heaved a labored breath. “I'm not certain, Your Highness, but one of my Lieutenants spotted them heading east. Colonel Gunter gave pursuit.”
The Prince regarded the Major, who was covered with injury from his forehead to his legs. “Where is this Lieutenant? I wish to speak with him.”
Major Reynolds shook his head and scrubbed a bloody hand over his face. “He had fallen, Your Highness. All my men had.”
Prince William clenched his jaw to contain his rage. John Drake had cleverly orchestrated the abduction when neither he nor the Colonel was at Elizabeth's side.
Guilt inundated him. Where was he when she needed him most? He'd let his temper occupy his reasoning, allowed jealousy and pride to deafen and blind him. If Elizabeth had come to grievous harm because he'd arrived too late, he could never forgive himself.
“David! Philippe!” he called over his shoulder. “Arrest the Duke's men! Sophia, stay here with Silvia and assist General Bradford. I'm going after John Drake.”
At the far end of the battlefield, Elizabeth wept as she stared at Chad's lifeless body in her arms. Even in death, he looked like a beautiful angel. Her gaze slid downwards to the massive injury on his chest. Though John had withdrawn his sword from his body, his heart had been badly ravaged. She couldn't see any signs of recovery.
“Come back to me—, please, Chad, come back to me,” she cried, hoping that some kind of miracle would restore him.
“Enough!” John Drake picked her up by the hair and pulled her to her feet. “Burn him!” he ordered his remaining men.
“No!” Elizabeth kicked and scratched him.
“You bitch!” He punched her on the face.
Her lip burst. The taste of her own blood settled on her tongue. Her gums prickled. The tips of her fingers tingled. She felt her heartbeat quicken. Her body tensed, infused with a sudden surge of strength. Something primal awakened deep within her, possessing her mind, filling her thoughts with raw hostility she’d never known before.
She growled, chest heaving, eyes burning. Her psyche struggled in vain with the aggressive entity struggling to overcome her will. As if the devil himself had seized control of her body and brains, she spun towards John and sank her pointed canines into the band of muscle between his neck and shoulder.
He cursed, abruptly wrenching her off him with a howl.
Elizabeth staggered backwards, but recovered her balance. She swiveled and ran.
John went after her and caught the skirt of her dress. Her body bucked, but she fought against the strain. The hem of her dress ripped. She stumbled forward, but regained her footing. She veered off the road and tore through the dark woods.
The overgrowth of weeds swallowed her into the sinister depths of the forest. Her shredded dress whipped in ribbons against the wind, flailing all around her. She kicked off her low-heeled shoes to gain momentum. Sharp rocks and branches pricked her soles. Dried leaves crunched beneath the pounding of her bare feet. Not far behind, she could hear John's heavy footsteps closing the gap between them.
A deep rumble resonated overhead. A gust of wind swayed the trees.
She sprinted as fast as she could, ignoring the low-lying branches that scraped her face, arms, and legs.
Thunder rolled in the clouds. Suddenly, she found herself in a small clearing.
She paused, chest rising and falling, rising and falling. Rapid breaths puffed from her mouth and swirled in a white steam.
She looked over her shoulder and listened. Nothing—, but eerie silence. Not even a single critter made a sound.
Then all of a sudden, heat lightning bisected the starless sky.
She caught a movement from the corner of her eye. Her heart slammed heavily in her ribcage. She swung her head from side to side, searching for the enemy.
Another flash of lightning zigzagged up above. Startled, she jerked her gaze upwards.
And saw the dark figure of a man leaping in mid-air, casting a shadow over her.
She screamed and broke into a run. He landed on his feet before her, preventing her escape. She gasped and slipped on the grass. The scent of lavender filled her lungs.
She looked up. His dark hair lifted in the breeze and flailed about his face, and his metallic eyes glowed brightly in the dark.
“It is I, my love,” he said, in that deep baritone voice with a familiar English accent.
She cried out, consumed with joy and relief, as he swept her in his arms and clasped her in a tight embrace.
Chapter 64
The Will of The Omni
Prince William murmured words of comfort in her ear as he stroked her tangled hair. She was shivering from head to toe, not from the cold, but from extreme anxiety and fear. He gritted his teeth in rage at her battered, disheveled state. The front of her dress was torn down to her navel and she was covered in bruises. Her mouth was swollen and bleeding. She sobbed uncontrollably, clinging to him, hiding her face in his chest.
“Hush, love.” He kissed her hair. “I'm here now. Don't—” He stiffened and jerked his head up, just as John Drake exploded out of the trees.
Their eyes met.
“Hide behind the bushes.” He whispered to Elizabeth. “I'll take care of this.”
She frantically shook her head and he saw the terror in her eyes.
“Go!” He gave her a slight push towards the thick shrubs.
John Drake backed into th
e shelter of the dense woods behind him.
“I wouldn't do that, if I were you.” Prince William moved slowly towards him. “You know you can't escape me.”
John brandished his sword warily, retreating with cautious backward steps without taking his eyes off him.
“Tell me.” The Prince flexed his hands. “Do you always pick on women?”
John's gaze darted to the sharp claws that gradually lengthened from the tips of the Prince’s fingers. He withdrew further and pointed his weapon at him.
“You won't be needing that.” Prince William began to circle him.
John Drake knew the exact reason why. The Prince had come unarmed for he did not need weapons to show how dangerous he was. He'd heard rumors of his powers and cruelty in combat. He had never learned of anyone surviving an encounter with him.
John darted his eyes to their surroundings. He'd been so intent on tracking Elizabeth that he'd neglected to take any of his men. He tightened his grip on his sword.
The Prince narrowed glowing colorless eyes at him. “I am disappointed in you, John,” he drawled, as he continued to circle him. “You had such a promising position in the hierarchy and you threw it all away. Was it ambition, greed for wealth and power that drove you, —or was it personal vendetta?”
John refrained from replying and kept his eyes on the Prince.
A deafening crack followed by a bolt of lightning branched into flashing tentacles of electrical current in the black sky.
John blinked.
The Prince had vanished.
He swung to his left and to his right.
“Did you think it was that easy?” he heard his voice, right behind him.
John whipped around, his heart pounding.
“You cannot change the course of destiny and the law of nature.” The Prince held his hand palm up, catching the first drop of rain.