I apologize that this chapter is so long!

I also wanted to thank the people who have reviewed and favorited my story. It means a lot to me!

Chapter 4

"Behind you!" I screamed at Francis as I ran as fast as I could toward him. Francis slowly turned around, unsure what I was talking about. His eyes widened when he saw the man hurdling toward him. Francis quickly raised his shield to block the incoming sword. The force of the weapon hitting the shield was too much for both of them, causing the sword to fall out of the man's hands while Francis crashed to the ground. The Englishman whipped toward his sword, but instead of retrieving it he leaned down and pulled a knife out of his boot. The man practically threw himself on top of Francis. He was doing anything he could to force the small blade into Francis' chest, but Francis fought back. He threw his fist into the man's face as many times as he could, but the Englishman was relentless.

When I finally reached Francis I tried to pull the man off of him. Instead, I was pulled away from the fight by another Englishman. I shuffled backward, trying to regain my balance but before I could the man swung his sword toward me. I attempted to reach for mine but it wasn't there. I looked down quickly to find that my sword was no longer in my belt. I turned my attention back to the man to find his sword hurdling toward me. I gasped as the metal sword struck the side of my armor. It had sounded like lightning had just struck next to me and the thunderous clap had rung in my ears. The impact of the sword made me stumble to my side. The pain began to shoot up my body like some sort of fire spreading through my body. When I managed to regain control of my body I told myself it was just a bruise, nothing more. When I make it through this I'll lift my armor and find a purple stain staring back at me. I forced my body upward and to focus on the man in front of me. His eyes were wandering elsewhere, watching his fellow soldiers die. He probably thought I wasn't going to fight back any longer, but he was wrong. I took this moment and jumped toward him, tackling him. We both fell back onto the muddy ground. On our way down his sword slid from his grip and crashed onto the ground next to us. I quickly reached for it and dove it into his neck. The blade slid in quite smoothly into his skin, but when I took the blade out, the man began to croak and gasp. He attempted to cover the wound with his hands but was unsuccessful. Blood poured down from his hands to his arms. The blood dripped down onto my face, but I wasn't concerned about the cold blood hitting my cheek. I was watching in horror as the man tried everything to save himself, from something I had done to him. Then, without warning, the man let his body fall onto me. He lied there on my chest plate, his eyes wide and his face pale. My heart started to throb against my chest as my clothes soaked in his blood.

I gently nudged his body off of me and turned toward Francis. My heart sank when I saw the man on top of Francis, punching him into a bloody mess.

A sudden rage filled my body to the point that my hands shook from anger. I had never experienced this sort of feeling before, but I let my body take full control. I leaned down and grabbed the mud-coated sword that I had just used on the man attacking me. I took a step toward Francis and the Englishman.

I forcefully grabbed the man by his shoulder that was covered with chain mail. I shoved the sword into the man's chest, almost enjoying the sound of him grunting in pain. I pulled it out quickly and watched as the pathetic man fell to the ground. Francis could only stare at me. His blue eyes shined brightly through the dark red that covered his face. It was a combination of other's blood and his own.

"You saved my life," Francis said silently. I almost didn't hear him with all the other noises around me. I slowly nodded, unable to form a sentence. Then I found myself unable to look away from Francis. I saved his life, Francis is alive! Nostradamus was right about the man, but not Francis. A sort of comfort and joy filled my body. I almost wanted to stand there, stare at Francis, and sob. The love of my life was going to live.

I quickly pushed myself out of my thoughts and reached my hand out for Francis. He took it and lifted himself up. I almost wanted to hug him, tell him who I was, and how wrong Nostradamus was. But I stopped myself. I couldn't risk my identity now, not while we were in battle. I needed to wait until after this siege. When we could finally reunite.

Knowing Francis was alive made me fight even harder. I had someone to live for and I wasn't going to let anyone take this happiness away from me. Not now, not ever. The fight felt never-ending as the sun began to set. The sky looked like it was on fire with the smoke that was created during the battle. We had gotten word that the other men got in safely and were making their way to the arsenal.

The number of Englishmen began to dwindle as time went on. One after another their bodies fell to the ground, lifeless. I stayed close to Francis because I never wanted to leave his side. Now that I knew he was going to live there was no way in hell I was going anywhere. Whether he thought I was a man or not.

I stood there for a moment, soaking in the last pieces of warmth from the sun as I looked around the battlefield. Bodies lied still on the snow and mud covered bricks. Pools of blood surrounded the pale bodies. I watched as a man kneeled over a dead body. He was crying uncontrollably and begging God to bring him back. He rocked back and forth with the younger soldier in his arms as he cried.

There weren't any more men to fight. We were the last ones standing, all French. We had just claimed Calais. Joyous shouts erupted from the remaining men, some were even cries. People were thanking God, or cursing him. There was no in-between. I had somehow managed to survive this war, and better yet, with Francis by my side. I looked over at him to find his lips curled into a smile as he looked up at the sky. His sculpted face looked absolutely magnificent as the last light from the sun hit his face. He turned and smiled at me. "Thank you, Anthonie. For giving me the chance to see my wife again." Tears swelled in his eyes, but he looked away before I could tell if my mind was just playing a trick on me. I smiled, but suddenly my smile disappeared. My whole body tensed and my eyes grew wider. It felt like someone was toying with my heart and crushing it between their fingers.

A man was charging toward Francis. He was covered with blood from head to toe and a sword was close to his side as he ran. Before I could even process what was going on my legs were already running toward Francis. It was as if it was a race between the man and I of who could get to Francis first and I was determined to make that me.

I quickly grabbed Francis and as strongly as I could I threw him behind me. Before I could react, the Englishman's sword swung down. It felt like the man punched me but I watched as the sword was thrust into my stomach. A groan escaped my lips, but I felt no pain. Not until I looked down and saw the sword jammed into my body and the blood that was forming around the wound. I gasped and my chest heaved as my knees slammed into the ground. When I tried to breathe blood began to come up my throat and slip from my lips.

I watched as Francis killed the Englishman as I began to hyperventilate. I couldn't control anything that was happening to my body. I could feel the pain becoming unbearable, but there was a numbing feeling that overpowered it. I just wanted all of these things to stop.

Francis rushed to my side and attempted to cover my wound with his bare hands. "Anthonie, I need you to look at me." He begged as he searched my eyes. I wanted to. I wanted to only see Francis' face, but my body wouldn't allow me to look anywhere else but the dark sky. "Look at me!" Francis yelled, but to me, it sounded like a cold whisper.

"Nostradamus was right," I cut myself off with a cough when the blood began to fill my mouth. I forced my body to look at Francis as if it was my last wish. Just to see his beautiful face. He was panicking and shaking his head at me. "He said one of the last men would kill you," I almost chuckled. "I got the wrong man."

Francis stared at me, his blue eyes searching for an answer from my eyes. But I was tired and I wanted to close them, just for a second. "Stay awake!" I could hear Francis shout. He shook my body and I slightly opened my eyes. I lifted my hand to Francis' cheek and attempted a smile. Before I could say anything else to Francis my hand fell.

It felt like someone was telling me that it was time to rest. Time to close my eyes and dreams of better times. I willingly obliged and closed my eyes and let my body be transported to that better time.

This is not the final chapter.