Chapter 9
Monroe watched her take off. Damn! Why couldn't she just listen to him! He caught the gleam of something out of the corner of his eye. Walking over to it he saw it was her handgun. Great! She doesn't even have a gun on her and she goes running off into God knows what! He growled in irritation and picked up the gun. With a gun in one hand and a sword in the other, he hurried in the direction she had gone. He wondered once again what it was about her that made him chase after her instead of running the opposite way like he should be. He reached the edge of the trees and stopped short at the chaos before him. Fires lit the village to a bight glow; shadows of sword battles and gun fights alike danced on the ground. The sounds of war hit him, making him rethink his decision to join the fight. He wasn't a coward and didn't mind fighting but this was not his fight. He didn't owe these people anything. He was brought out of his thoughts at the sound of pounding hooves. He looked to his right to see the herd of horses that had been in the pen, now thundering towards him. He quickly took shelter behind a tree as they thundered past, herded by men on horseback. He shook his head; it was a shame, they had had a nice little village going. He looked back at the fight and felt his breath catch. Joan was standing on top of a wagon, an automatic rifle in her hands. He half smiled as he imagined her eyes flashing every time she pulled the trigger. He watched as she mowed down a line of bandits that were rushing Nahla a few paces away. Nahla for her part was throwing knifes at the advancing enemy, but was being pushed back towards the wagon where Joan was. Monroe winced thinking back to the one that had landed by his head, realizing it could just as easily have been his heart. Joan, having apparently run out of bullets, now had a sword and was chopping down the men trying to get in the wagon to get to her. He noted the graceful flow of her sword and the way her body seemed to move as one with the sword. He swallowed hard as he watched her, remembering her lips on his before they had been interrupted. He shook his head to clear it of the thoughts and emotions that were brought on by the memory. He did not need to think of that right now. He focused back on the fight in time to see Nahla throw a knife at a guy that had slipped behind the wagon with a torch, the flame catching the wood on fire. Joan abandoned the wagon and made her way over to where Nahla was being over run and out of knifes. He watched, shocked as Nahla picked up a sword and the pair began to fight back to back. They were the perfect team both seeming to know were the other was at all times, no communication needed. Monroe felt a twinge of regret; he and Miles had fought like that many of times. He knew what it was like to know someone so well that you didn't need to ask you just knew. He watched as more bandits rushed them; they were good but there were too many. He sighed, so much for staying out of the fight. He began to make his way towards the fighting duo. Few dared to get in his way and the ones that did he shot. Most left him alone though going after easier targets.
Joan loved sword fights, but this was getting ridiculous! There was so many of them! She had picked up another sword and was now fighting with two. Raising one to block and driving the other into the gut of the man she was fighting. She glared at the two cuts on the man's shoulder. It made an "s" then another "s" turned on its side going though the first one like a lower case "t" just with two "s" instead of lines. It reminded her of the Nazis symbol. She snorted that made sense because the man who made it was like a mini Hitler. A man named Silas Sinclair led the war clan that was attacking them. She glanced at all the bodies on the ground. Silas had done a lot of recruiting; his forces had never been this big. She couldn't help but give a slight smirk and think he should have concentrated more on quality than quantity.
"This is fun and all but you should really be doing more fighting and less smirking!" Yelled Nahla. She turned to see Nahla fighting three at once. Oops. She quickly engaged one. This one was a bit of a challenge, he actually knew how to block a sword decently and was prancing around her with the energy of a fresh fighter. She noticed one of the two that Nahla was fighting slowly start to work his way around behind her.
"Nahla." Joan warned.
"Joan stop playing around and get over here and help me!" Nahla retorted back angrily. Joan gave a short laugh.
"I'm not!" She yelled over her shoulder, focusing on the man in front of her. "Alright prancy pants settle down, your making me tired." He charged her, swinging his blade with more force than she would have expected. She blocked and got a nice cut in on his exposed side before stepping out of reach as he slung his blade wildly at her. "Tisk tisk" she clicked with her tongue. "Never swing wildly at your opponent," she chided, risking a glance over at Nahla. He let out an enraged yell and charged again, his swings wild with rage. Joan just danced away and waited for him to give her an opening. It came a few seconds later when he over stepped and was struggling to keep his balance. Joan was behind him in a second, dragging the blade across his throat. She watched him fall to the ground gurgling with a hand to his throat.
"Joan!" She wheeled immediately to see Nahla swing her sword to block the one in front of her, leaving her back exposed to the guy behind her. Joan eyes widened and she moved to help. She only got a few steps when she heard someone running up behind her. The hairs on the back of her neck bristled and instinctually she dropped to the ground, hearing the swish of the blade where her head had been. She kicked out with her legs and caught her attacker in the knees causing them to buckle beneath the person. He landed next to her, so close that she could smell the rotted breath coming from his mouth. She swallowed at the bile that rose in her throat. He reached his hand out and grabbed for her. That was a mistake. Joan had expected this and was already grabbing for the knife at her belt, unsheathing it in time to slash his wrist. He cried out and lunged at her.
Dammit Joan where are you! Nahla thought angrily. She risked a glance in her direction in time to see the man lunge at Joan. She gasped; there was nothing she could do and she had problems of her own. She made eye contact with the guy in front of her a split second before she felt the sting of the blade as it slashed her shoulder. She cried out despite herself, feeling her wounded shoulder give to the force of the man she was blocking. She swallowed hard; after everything she had been through, just to lose to a toothless goon?! No, she thought, not tonight. With all the force she could muster she pushed back against the sword. She was able to push him off balance. She heard the man behind her move a second before she felt the blade at her throat.
"He said he only needed the other one alive," he sneered in her ear. "So don't…." He never finished as a knife was drove into his back. Nahla twisted away from the blade only cutting herself a little, before stumbling to the ground. She felt relieved that Joan had finally decided to get her butt over here and do something, but as she looked up at the person standing above her, she felt her blood boil.
"A thank you would be nice." Said Monroe his voice dripping sarcasm. Sheesh he had just saved her life and still she glared at him!
Joan had heard Nahla cry out. Rage filled her and she dispatched the guy quickly, struggling to her feet. She noticed that the rest of the war clan was disappearing into the trees. The fight was over. She turned to where Nahla had been fighting, dreading the possibility she didn't want to face. The scene before her took her a minute to come to terms with. Nahla was on the ground, bloodied but alive with Monroe standing over her. Even as she walked towards them intent on seeing if Nahla was ok all she could think of was he had followed her; he had saved what was most precious to her, her best friend, her sister. Her heart seized up as a different scene flashed in her head, one of Nahla lying dead.
Monroe watched her approach, their eyes locked. The look on her face when she turned around had been one of pain. She had really thought she was too late. Now she knelt at her friend's side and pulled her into a hug before inspecting the wound on her shoulder. It was a quick hug but he felt that in that second something had past between them, something that said 'we're both still here.' The corner of his mouth twitched and he looked away. He and Miles had a look that they used to communicate that, no words necessary. He looked around at the damage the fight had caused. Fires were everywhere, lighting up the night. Slowly people not tending to the wounded were starting to put them out. He looked up at the dark sky and sighed, it would be daylight soon, then the damage would be visible.