Transcending Fire

Chapter 1 / Part 2 : This is the End

With a cry of triumph and pain, she wrenched her sword back out with a violent twist and kicked him away from her just as her next opponent sprang forward to engage her in another life or death struggle. She threw herself into the fight, her eyes darting everywhere in a desperate search for a pocket of her men that she could rejoin. That thought was cut off by a vengeful cry that stood out from all the others.

Twisting her head, she sliced a much less skilled soldier across the throat to clear her view to the source of that cry. There he was, the only living heir to the throne. Marcus Valoran was kneeling beside his fallen brother, checking for a heartbeat with tears of rage in his eyes.

In a stark contrast to his brother who lay lifeless in his quivering arms, his hair was a simple soldier's cut and his face showed the weathering of a man who lived outdoors. His armor was standard legionnaire style, with the markings of his rank upon the chest and the crest of the helm that lay beside him. He stared down at what she had done to his brother in disbelief, self assured pride hard to imagine on his face.

Surrounding him were seven Praetorians and more were gathering by the second. As eager as she was to take advantage and end this nightmare, she knew she needed a clean kill. Jumping into that swarm of death would mean she would be lucky if her blade even met his armor, let alone his skin.

"You're his younger brother, aren't you? Why don't you rise to avenge his death and leave your nursemaids behind?" She was trying to pull him out with insults she knew would have drawn out his arrogant older brother with ease. She had to make this quick, but it would seem he would not be goaded.

"I've wished for years to meet you outside of the battlefield to talk of peace. You always seemed like an honorable foe to me," he confessed as he set his brother's head on the ground and slowly stood , "I never thought that when we met, I would find such a bloodthirsty fool, but I won't be controlled by you. Fight me here and now or go die with your men," Marcus commanded, rolling his right shoulder out of the grips of his praetorians so he might raise his blade.

"You expect me to fight you in the midst of your ring of personal guards? Hah! Unlike your mother, mine didn't suffer a fool. Fight me alone or sit there cowering between their legs while I rip through your men one after another," Alex demanded. She became flustered by the rage roiling in his cold, focused stare. He wasn't the image of a brother who had lost a lifetime companion. Not at all. Rather, he looked at her as if she was a thief in the night who'd stolen his only reason for living.

When he refused to leave their protection, she raced to where the men she loved were holding off the Luxorian troops with all their might. They needed her help. Just one of her men was capable of holding off three Luxorians with the wide swings they took with their swords, but they were grossly outnumbered. Her chance to kill Marcus would come, but not if she was left all alone.

"You, muster more troops to contain this breach! The rest of you, with me!" She heard him call out. Sooner or later, he would make the mistake of coming after her. She just needed to wait him out. For now, she set herself to cutting away at his men one after the other. None of them were capable of stopping her.

Several minutes later, she spotted a wink from fate. Tied to a tent stake was an unclaimed horse. She raced over to it and jumped up into the saddle with a single, smooth motion. Here was her only real chance to succeed! Turning, she watched an infantryman with a spear lunge forward and thrust his blade up into the throat of her mount before she could break away.

She tried to dismount, but fell with the horse instead. Her foot was trapped in the stirrup. The massive stallion had nowhere to collapse but right on top of her, its weight too much for her to push away.

The soldier who was set to claim her life was cut down by her men who'd witnessed the whole thing, but they quickly met their ends as well. The fight shifted over and around her fallen self. No one else looked down. No one saw her there covered in blood, muck, shit and tears.

She desperately tried to wriggle herself out of the sinking mud pit she was trapped in, but it was slow going. Her muscles were shaking from exertion and adrenaline. She was almost out, but then a careless soldier kicked her helmeted skull. She was rendered nearly insensate, only capable of listening to the battle as it raged on around her. She was useless.

When the ringing in her ears finally cleared, all she could hear were men in the final throes of death amid an otherwise silent camp. She craved to be among those that death took into his pocket, but he had no interest in her for now. Instead, she lay pinned in the middle of the camp bathed in horse blood barely able to breathe, but also not permitted to die it would seem.

She was struggling to take in even the smallest of puffs of air now and everything was becoming so blurry. Her mind drifted and she reflected on the events that lead to this battle. They seemed scrambled and too difficult to comprehend now. One incomprehensible memory would float by only for another to rapidly take its place. The speed at which this happened was nauseating, but if she wreched now, she'd surely choke .

She couldn't decipher friend from enemy anymore. Gruff Artorian groans and strident Luxorian grunts all sounded the same. All she had left to wonder was if this was the true voice of death whose face she already knew all too well. Indiscriminate and soft.

The sound of her heartbeat slowing down flooded her ears and a numbing tingle began its ascent up her body, when suddenly, her eyes locked onto Marcus who was surveying the carnage. His stride was predatory and his form was looming. He stopped in front of the fallen steed she was under and removed his helmet. The handsome features of a strong jaw and stubble dusted cheeks were drawn tight into a stoic expression. His cool, icy blue eyes remained far from that of his brother who she imagined would have been alight with pleasure over his bloodstained hands.

She could only watch helplessly as he reluctantly withdrew his blade, and wondered if it would be honorable to die this way. She could tell he probably didn't see her and thought it best to end the struggling horse's life swiftly rather than to allow it's suffering to continue. The blade lifted and glinted with the blood of her brethren when his muscles suddenly clenched. He saw her.

With a look of disbelief, he crouched down and encircled his strong arms around the horse's underbelly to try to pull it off of her. Instinctively, she tried to push up, but they were both too weak. His praetorians swarmed towards their prince when they saw what was happening and began to aid him, revealing her from beneath. Broken and bloodied, she could hear them whispering among themselves even as she gasped for air.

Is she really the princess?

Marcus studied her pale face carefully and her own vision faltered. The last moments of her consciousness were filled with the sight of him spitting down at her. This was it, she thought, she was never to wake again.

I'm going home...

"Disarm her. Put her in a tent next to mine, and have the physicians see to her. I must write a letter to the emperor to let him know what she did to his son," Marcus ordered his praetorians who had begun to lift her out of the dirt before he turned away. He needed to arrange for someone to transport his brother home.