In Love and War
Chapter 2
1/27/03
Author's Notes: I wasn't expecting to get started on this chapter so soon but my friend (and literary consultant) is stuck in the dark with absolutely nothing to do since for some unknown reason, she has absolutely no power at all in her house. Therefore, she is on her cell helping me out writing this chapter now. Also, as you can see, I've rename the story. Never really liked 'Heart's Revolution' from the start but for lack of a better name . . . Anyway, onward to the story.
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Endymion shielded his cobalt eyes as the sun peaked over the flat horizon. He glanced over at Andrew on the dapple horse beside his own stallion, Patriot. Andrew gave him a thumbs up along with a lopsided grin and a quick wink. Endymion returned the grin. "Just a few more minutes yet, my friend."
Andrew nodded. The peak of the arsenal could be seen now over the gentle slope of the plain. The Long Island Sound glistened just beyond it. Endymion looked over at his blond-haired friend again. "Can you see the other group yet, Andrew?"
Andrew blocked out the rising sun as he looked toward the other side of the arsenal. Something glinted out there. "Yes! They've sent a signal by glass!"
Endymion smiled grimly as he took out his pistol. "Then let's go!" He waved back to his men, gesturing for them to follow and then gave Patriot a good slap. The stallion reared with a neigh and took off, all the others following. He could see Malcolm Grant in the distance, leading the other troops. A tall, intimidating yet handsome silver-haired figure, he had become quite popular with the women in New York City, where he resided, though there was rumour that he was rather uninterested in the women throwing themselves at his feet.
Right now, the leader of a New York City subdivision of the Sons of Liberty was holding up his rapier as a signal to charge. His men took his lead and within seconds (so it seemed, anyway), both groups were approaching the arsenal, weapons drawn.
"Attack! Attack!" Malcolm charged from the east side of the fort, killing the four guards that protected that entrance with great ease. Endymion had more trouble. The west side guards had heard the shots from the east and had already drawn their weapons. Endymion managed to get out a shot first, bringing down one of the guards. Another fired at him, only to miss and take a bullet from Andrew's pistol. Endymion shot Andrew a look of gratitude before charging the gate with his horse leaving some of his men to take care of the other British soldiers. As the stallion approached the door, it reared and slammed its hooves against the door as the other men banged their fists and weapons on the barriers. Under this barrage, the door gave way and the ninety-eight men under Endymion started to pour through.
What he was not expecting to see was about twenty lines of twelve red-coated men each waiting for them, weapons loaded as if they had known about the revolutionary plans for even longer than the revolutionaries themselves did. Endymion vaguely wondered if Malcolm was facing a similar armada at the west gate. He briefly registered the voice of the opposing commander shouting "Fire!" as he took in what looked like the inevitable and overwhelming defeat of this group of rebels. In his shock he barely noticed the bullets speeding by him until one scraped by his shoulder and knocked him off Patriot.
He bit back a cry of pain as he watched his men fall, one by one. Though it could have only been seconds, it seemed like an eternity had passed when he heard Malcolm's cry of retreat. But Endymion couldn't move. He was frozen in place, his astonishment pinning him down like a lead weight. His cobalt eyes searched out someone familiar to help him out of his stupor but he couldn't seem to lock onto anyone. He finally saw Andrew running his sword through a red coat while backing up towards the gate. His gaze was wrenched from the sight as his arm was jerked up. "Get up, you fool!"
Endymion looked up in surprise to see Malcolm pulling him up by his arm. "Mal-Malcolm!"
"Thomas!" The other commander bit out harshly. "Get up and get out. Fight your way out! God knows you'll have to! Now go!"
Malcolm drew his rapier and Endymion quickly followed suit. The British were coming in greater numbers now and Endymion realized that the rebels would have to move quickly if they wanted to get out of there alive. He worked with Malcolm toward the gate, slashing down the red coats as they went.
One particularly vicious one came at him, bayonet nearly thrusting into his heart had he not managed to bring up his sword and deflect the thrust, bringing his left fist around to lay a brutal punch to the soldier's head. The man went down but before Endymion was able to feel any relief he felt Malcolm dragging him our of the fort. "Run, Endymion! Go that way." He pointed in the southeasterly direction and then let his pale gaze meet Endymion's navy one. "I'll lead them off the other way. They'll be wanting to follow us, for certain. They're eager for an execution. So make haste! Go!"
Endymion gave him one last look of gratitude before following Grant's directions and taking off towards the southeast. A quick glance behind him told him he'd have to hurry for he saw one of the British commanders pointing a group of soldiers this way. A cry of "Stop him!" confirmed his thoughts.
With a burst of speed, he gained a good lead, darting into the woody area south of the fort. He knew it would be difficult for the soldiers to follow on horse. Sure enough, as he looked over his shoulder, he saw a glimpse of a redcoat dismounting and entering the small forest. With renewed effort he ran through the woods, dodging trees and bullets until he saw a clearing in front of him. As he cleared the last line of trees, he realized he needed to find a hiding place fast. This area was flat and he would be in plain sight in almost any direction he went in.
He looked into the distance. About a quarter of a mile away, he saw a tall ivy-covered wall surrounding what appeared to be a rather expansive estate. Certainly, if he made it into the estate, there would be a place to hide. With the thought in mind, he took off towards it. He heard the British soldier gaining on him but knew he had half a minute or so before they got out of the forest.
When he finally reached the wall, he grabbed some of the ivy and hoisted himself over with ease. He made a mental note to thank his uncle for the intense training he had received through his childhood. Unfortunately, the thought was cut short as he realized he had landed in a patch of rose bushes on the other side. Cursing under his breath, he adjusted himself into the most comfortable yet still hidden position he could and sat back to wait for the soldiers to pass.
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Damien cursed as he continued pacing around in his study, thinking back to the day before, when Serenity had run out of the very same room, ashen-faced. Who did she think she was, leaving without getting permission? She had an obligation to him and she owed his family dearly for their hospitality towards her. The least she could do was take the news in stride and accept it gratefully as her fate. After all, she was his, damnit! He might as well have owned her.
With a shout of rage, he picked up the ink well on his desk and hurled it at the wall, watching with some grim satisfaction as it left an inky trail on the immaculate maroon paint. He stared at the dark blot that now tainted the wall, sitting down in the brown leather chair behind his mahogany work desk. The dark blot vaguely made him think of Serenity. It's darkness against her light. The way it tainted the pristine wall while Serenity was perfectly untainted. Untainted by any other man. His and his alone.
Damien smiled languidly at the realization. She was untainted by any other man and she would never be allowed to meet any other man. He had nothing to worry about. She truly was his, would always be his. Always.
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Serenity wiped away a tear of anger as she navigated the gardens. What right did he have to decide her fate? To choose the person that she would spend the rest of her life with! And of all the egotistical things, to choose himself!
"How dare he!" She shouted out to no one in particular, clenching her fists. She felt angered at not only Damien, but at herself for the tears she couldn't seem to stop. Even with no one to witness them, they made her feel helpless and vulnerable. She wanted to be able to do something but there didn't seem anything she could do. Married, for the love of god! She was only seventeen! Young! What about love? All the literature she had read from the estate's library spoke of love. Sophocles, for instance had said, "One word frees us of all the weight and pain of life: That word is love."
What she wouldn't give to feel that feeling of freedom and of love. Was it really so much to ask? Serenity's thoughts were wistful as she approached the white rose bushes she loved so much. She reached down to pick one, the perfect white folds of the bloom making her sigh as she spoke aloud another quote that came to mind. "And the white rose is a dove . . ." The quote held a double meaning for her, reminding her of the love and the freedom denied to her.
She plucked the rose from the bush and promptly let out a short scream. Where the flower had once grown, a pair of startling cobalt eyes now gazed back at her.
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Read and review, please! Constructive criticism is always welcome!
~*~Jaina Xiran~*~