The Strength of Ten

Another Fight? Ugh.

A/N: Sorry for not posting soonner! I was having a major writer's block... This chapter may be pretty bad, sorry...

After what seemed like hours and everyone’s limbs were getting cramped from the ride, the Humvee shook forcefully and was knocked off the road into a ditch at the side. Eight groaned and rubbed his temple where it had hit the window when the car swerved. “Nine!” Sam complained. “What the hell?” Nine held his hands up defensively. “Not me. Even I don’t drive that recklessly.” Immediately, Six shot up from her position in Four’s lap. “Mogs.” She hissed. They scrambled out of the armoured vehicle and turned, just as the Humvee exploded into a million shards of lethal shrapnel. “Hit the ground!” Eight yelled. Everyone dove down flat on the hard packed dirt seconds before the wave of deadly metal cut through the air above their heads, slicing of a lock of Marina’s brown hair, flying wildly in the wind. Four cursed.

“I thought we’d gotten away for a while. Just give us a damn break, won’t you?” He yelled furiously at the advancing army of Mogs. “Come on, Johnny boy. I for one value a good fight, don’t you?” Nine smirked. John rolled his eyes and groaned. The Mogs were reaching them already. Nine already had out his glowing red staff, while Four was brandishing his diamond dagger and wielding his impenetrable shield. Eight had transformed into a larger than life lion while Six was already in a fighting stance, ready to grab a Mog, disarm him and run him through with his own sword. Seven was already preparing to heal anyone if need be, while Ella was trying to get into the minds of the Mogs and figure out their plans. One glance at Ten and you could tell she was already feeling useless, and John really wanted to turn back and shake some sense into her , but he couldn’t. Not with so many Mogs around, ready to attack, to kill, at the smallest command. She was far from useless. As the youngest of the Garde, she represented their long life and survival. In her own way, she was the pillar that sustained their mental strength.

The Mog commander shouted a command and the soldiers charged forward. Six leapt into action, a whirlwind of pure terror. She somersaulted over the heads of two unfortunate Mogs and slammed them together, knocking them unconscious before grabbing their swords and slicing their heads clean off, scattering the ashes.

“Two down, about a hundred to go.” Six grimaced. “Pessimist.” John muttered. Six glared. “If I weren’t in love with you you’d be dead, Four.” “Stop arguing! Get your ass over here, Johnny!” Nine screamed, holding off the wave of Mogs. Four sighed and ignited his flames, narrowing his Lumen to pinpricks of concentrated light, practically lasers. He slashed and hacked with his swords of light, taking down the front line of Mogs easily. Eight was teleporting behind enemy lines, pouncing out as a larger than life ferocious lion, dismembering almost as many Mogs as Four. Nine sliced mercilessly at all within his reach, even taking out a Piken and a few Kraul. BK had shapeshifted back into that gigantic armoured horned lizard, bowling down Mogs with every shake of his spiked head.

Just as it seemed they were winning, a horrendous scream pierced the air. John froze, his flames still licking his body. He would recognise that scream anywhere. “Six!” He yelled, charging into the midst of the Mog troops, only to find his love dangling from the jagged toothed mouth of a large Piken. Her face was frozen in an expression of terror, one almost never seen on Six’s face before. But there was something in this expression. Most people would think that she was terrified of the Piken, but Four had spent too much time analysing her various facial expression to tell that this wasn’t just terror caused by the Piken. This seemed more like a painful memory. (A/N Those of you who read The Lost Files: Six’s Legacy should understand this.) White hot fury coursed through his veins and his Lumen lit up again, narrowing to twin lasers again. He angled his lasers to the crowd of Mogs surrounding the enraged Piken, egging it on. John’s lasers ripped through the crowd of Mogs sending clouds of ash flying up into the air. Anger temporarily vented, Four concentrated on communicating with the beast, encouraging it to release Six. He could feel the anger radiating off the Piken’s mind in waves, pulsing through his head. Broken flashes of the Piken’s life flashed through his head. Being born, being collared, being cooped up in a cell too small for a creature half its size. Seeing friends and family break out of the miniscule jails, breathe a breath of air from the corridor the freedom and promptly keel over, dead. Feeling the freedom when let out of the cage, only to be locked up again, transported here, to fight to its doom.

Let the girl go. Four coaxed mentally. Turn on the Mogs. Fight your captors, the ones truly in charge of the torment you received, the hell hole you stay in. He could feel the Piken’s mood shifting, the pent up fury changing its target to the crowd around it. Go. Attack th- Four mental cajoling was cut off as he let out a yell of agony and collapsed to the hard dirt ground.

His shirt was ripped and in tatters. He glanced at the Mogadorian dagger hilt protruding from his side. It had missed his stomach by centimetres. In fact, he could have been holding the dagger between his arm and body, but there was too much blood. He watched as scarlet dripped from the wound, pooling on the floor. Red washed over his vision from the pain and he heard was a girl’s voice -whose, he couldn’t tell as pain was making it too hard to place voices- screaming his name. He tried turning his head, but the searing flash of agony was too much. He reached down and pulled the glowing blue dagger out, crying out at the sudden, though expected, rush of pain. His palm automatically felt its way down to the wound blindly, placing it over the jagged, torn flesh, bleeding torrents, edges stained with blue.

He willed the wound to heal, and he could feel the familiar shiver down his spine as the legacy went to work. His body convulsed with the excessive pain the healing brought, although that soon subsided into a tingling as the flesh on either side of the wound fused together, forming a jagged line of rough skin at the site of injury. He had a feeling the scar wouldn’t fade for quite some while, but he honestly didn’t care. He had more important things to worry about.

He ran over to Six’s side, gently gathering her unconscious form in his arms, silently sending a message of thanks to the Piken for releasing her. The beast was now fighting its captors, giving the Garde time to escape. Although Sam, Marina and Ella weren’t really hurt, Nine had a long, deep gash up his arm and Eight’s clothes were smoldering from a Mog cannon blast.

A/N: OK, that's done for now. I'm not gonna beg for comments but I have to say a few comments on my writing would be nice. :)