Kagome took a deep breath, preparing to push into the fray when she noticed two foot soldiers glancing about in confusion and desperation. Somehow they had become separated from their lord. "Follow me!" Kagome commanded, and they quickly fell in behind her. With the three men at her back, she charged forward, clearing a path through the enemy with a swipe here and a thrust there, her warrior instincts leading her on. She could feel the men fighting beside her with renewed confidence, could hear their blades clashing with renewed vigor. She smiled grimly with tightly clenched teeth as the fighting around her intensified.
Then, Kagome caught a glimpse of Kohaku. He was sitting on his horse, his armor smeared with blood, when suddenly he clutched at his stomach where an arrow had magically appeared. He slumped forward, rolling off his horse into the mud.
"No!" Kagome shouted, and turned, her legs aching with the effort it took to lift her feet.
She ran as best she could toward her brother. Suddenly, an Western knight blocked her path, causing her to rear back. A savage scream of frustration ripped from her anguished throat as she arced her sword toward the enemy's head. Their swords clanged, hot blue sparks exploding from the point of impact as he expertly blocked the swing with his own blade.
Kagome's angry glare turned fully on him. Suddenly, she froze, unable to move, or breathe. It was his eyes that gave him away. His golden eyes. She recognized them through the visor he wore. "Sesshomaru," she gasped.
Kagome saw his lips move and recognition wash over his face before pain exploded from the back of her head and blackness invaded her vision.
Kagome!
Sesshomaru lowered his sword and was about to reach out a hand toward her when she suddenly crumpled to her knees, and then slumped to the ground. Sesshomaru stared with shock at the blood forming at the base of her helmet as she lay in a heap. She had fallen on top of two knights who had died before her.
Died. The hairs on Sesshomaru's neck stood straight; his flesh became cold at the thought. He heard a movement behind him. With perfect instinct, he turned to deflect a blow from an attacking Eastern knight. His adversary rained blow after blow on him, pushing him back, trying to cut him down, but Sesshomaru deflected every swing. Training guided his movements, training that had ingrained his skills so deeply that they had become habit – and the only thing keeping him alive, because all he was conscious of was Kagome.
Then, suddenly, his adversary's sword bounced off his armor, jarring his thoughts. Anger soared through every vein in his body, and power returned to his limbs. With an angry cry, Sesshomaru swung his blade, the strength of years of experience behind the blow. The blades clanged only once before Sesshomaru's sword snapped the easternman's weapon in two. Then, still shouting, Sesshomaru ran his adversary through.
He had to finish this battle. He had to go to Kagome. Sesshomaru fought like a man possessed. His golden eyes glowered through his helmet, and when he downed one man, he turned for another. His thirst for Eastern blood was unquenchable.
He whirled to take on a new foe. But there were no more enemies. All he saw was his own men – some locked in the grips of their last battle, some looking about for another adversary.
The battle was over.
Sesshomaru swung his gaze about, looking for Kagome amidst the carnage, but the field was littered with piles of bodies upon piles of bodies.
After only a few minutes of his search, Sesshomaru saw the grimy beggars, the human vultures that always seemed to appear at the end of a battle, descend onto the field to loot the corpses. As he watched a beggar slide a sharp blade across an Eastern knight's neck, the blood that splattered painted Kagome's memory in crimson. The beggar thrust his dirty hands in the knight's pouches and stole whatever he could find of value.
Sesshomaru could not stand the thought of one of these men defiling Kagome's body. He had to find her.