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Evan gritted his teeth and watched Munro charge towards him like a great behemoth. It pained Evan to see his elegant sword being wielded by such a brute, and the onus was on Evan to reclaim the sword. He tracked Munro’s movements and then spun around at the last moment, shifting all his weight so it seemed to Munro as if he had disappeared entirely. Munro’s momentum carried him forward. He had been expecting to skewer Evan, running the sword right through the middle of his torso, but instead, he had hit nothing but empty air. Munro staggered as he sought to stop himself, but Evan was already trying to take advantage of the opportunity.

He charged towards Munro’s back and slashed his sword against Munro’s spine, but Munro twisted around and just managed to raise his own sword, deflecting the blow. He flicked his wrists and countered immediately with a strike of his own. The man was strong and swift, far more nimble than his size would suggest. Evan knew he would have to be careful. Munro’s strikes were borne from aggression. They came crashing down, and Evan could do nothing but remain defensive for some time. He tracked Munro’s movements and managed to block the blows, which only served to make Munro more and more frustrated.

“Ye should give up. The army will be here soon, and ye will hae naewhere tae gae except a dungeon,” Evan said.

“I hae my grave,” Munro hissed, and another flurry of blows was unleashed. Evan felt the reverberations run down his arm. His sword was made well. The steel was strong, and so the punch of the blows made his elbow buckle. It became clear to him that he could not rely on biding his time until the army arrived. Munro wanted to bring a swift end to this fight.

The next time Evan blocked a blow, instead of backing away, he moved closer to Munro. He barged Munro with his shoulder and then shifted around, bringing the hilt of his sword crashing against Munro’s shoulder. Munro cried out in pain and for a moment his defense was weakened. Evan flicked his wrists and slashed across Munro’s chest, revealing a line of blood that seeped through Munro’s clothes. Evan’s blade had been neglected so it was not as sharp as it should have been, meaning that the blow was not a fateful one. It may take a thousand cuts to bring this titan down.

But now that Munro was bleeding, he was driven into a deeper frenzy. There was no reasoning at all with the madness behind his eyes. He swung Evan’s blade like a hammer. It came down in a sweeping arc. Evan backed away, almost stumbling. When he lifted his own blade to strike back, it was batted away harmlessly. Evan waited and watched, tracking the arc as it came whirling through the air, and then he moved, rolling forward. His shoulder hit the ground, and when he was carried forward he lifted his sword, striking up at Munro, while pain flared over his face and blood spilled into his mouth.

* * *

Amelie clutched her dagger tightly, holding it in front of her, even though she did not know how to use it. The gambit of threatening to take her own life had worked, but only for a time. She had been unable to avoid fighting entirely. And now chaos had broken out. Stephen and Evan were on the other side of a wall of soldiers. They were crying out and the air was filled with the clash of swords. The sharp sounds were like thunderclaps, and they promised nothing but an ominous outcome. Amelie’s hands trembled. She wished she could be of aid, but she was no warrior, no soldier. She had never been trained in the art of war, and even though she wielded a weapon she could not rush into battle, for it would surely cost Amelie her life.

So she backed away. She hated doing so, for she knew that Evan would not have retreated if the roles were reversed, but she had no other option. However, the attention of the men Munro had brought with him was split. Most of them were focused on Stephen and Evan. While Munro was obsessed with Evan, Stephen was making a heroic effort against the others. But one of these men had turned around.

“Ye dinnae think I hae forgotten about ye, did ye, lass? I would hate tae let ye slip away,” his words were cold and slimy, and there was nothing but ill intent in his eyes. Munro had gathered the most desperate, depraved people to join his cause, and they would rather die than face Laird Pascal’s punishment. His fingers danced in the air, resembling spider legs, and there was a look of hunger in his eyes. Laughter cackled from the gaping maw of a mouth, and Amelie whimpered in terror. He feinted one way, and then another. Amelie swung the dagger to meet his approach both times. She reached out and swiped it wildly through the air. He jumped back, but it was not enough to deter him completely. All it took was one moment when he got his grubby hands on her wrist for him to wrest the dagger away from her grip, and then she would be helpless. Then, she would be dead. She glanced beyond the man’s shoulder and saw Evan fall to the floor. She gasped with fear, hoping against hope that Munro hadn’t managed to kill him. After all they had been through it seemed wrong that it should end like this.

* * *

Evan’s cheek had been nicked by Munro’s sword as he rolled through. The cut was a clean one, and as his flesh was opened, crimson blood poured down as freely as a widow’s tears. The blood trickled into his mouth. The taste of iron swam over his tongue. He pushed himself up using his elbows and spat out a glob of blood. In the distance, he could see Stephen struggling to hold off the men he was fighting. Evan turned on his heels, eager to help his ward, but Munro had other ideas.

“Where dae ye think ye are gaeing?” Munro growled. His breath may as well have been fire, for the fury emanating from this man was palpable. He dragged one leg behind him, for Evan had cut through the ligaments as he rolled underneath Munro.

“It’s over, Munro. Just give up,” Evan said, the words heaving out of his mouth.

“It’s nae over until I die,” Munro growled, showing his yellowed teeth.

“Then ye hae sealed yer fate,” Evan said, intending to bring this fight to an end swiftly so that he could help Stephen and Amelie. He raised his sword, and this time the fight was more in his favor. Munro’s wound did him no favors. His movements were sluggish, and he was always a step behind Evan. Evan crashed his blade against Munro’s. All the lessons he had been taught about skill and strategy were dismissed from his mind, because this duel devolved into a brawl. He brought the sword crashing through the air. He managed to get through Munro’s defenses once and struck him on the shoulder. More blood poured out. Munro swept the sword through the air, aiming to slice Evan in two through his waist. Evan hopped back, stretching his arms out wide. Munro cursed under his breath and stumbled forward. Evan wrapped both hands around the hilt of his sword and thrust it forward, ramming it through Munro’s shoulder, close to his neck. He jammed the sword through sinew and bone. The blade, stained with crimson, protruded from the other side of Munro’s body. Munro cried out in pain. It was an achingly tragic sound, the kind of sound that emanated from a dying beast.

Munro lifted his head and stretched out his arms. He was on his knees now, and Evan was going to see to it that he never rose again. Evan wrested his own sword from Munro’s hands. The pain that poured through Munro’s body was such that it prevented him from offering any resistance. The sword fit naturally into Evan’s palms, and he felt stronger for being able to wield his own weapon. He brought it down in one swift strike, angling the blow across Munro’s throat. A thick sea of blood poured out as the life left Munro’s eyes. He teetered back, gurgled his last breath, and then slumped to the ground.

Evan was already moving away. His blood was on fire. He came alive in the heat of battle. Stephen was quickly becoming overwhelmed, but when Evan joined him, the tide of the fight turned. Evan was able to fight back against the forces of evil, but then he heard Amelie scream.

* * *

In the confusion and heat of battle, Amelie had lost sight of Evan. There were too many people moving around, and it was already hard to see them in the darkness. Besides, she had to remain focused on the man in front of her, otherwise, he might succeed in taking the dagger from her hand. He had already come close once, his fingers grazing against her arm. She managed to give him a glancing blow with the dagger, drawing blood from his palm. The man was so sick that only seemed to encourage him. Amelie’s stomach had turned as he had lifted his palm to his mouth and licked the blood away.

“Stay back. I’ll kill ye,” she hissed.

“I’d like tae see ye try,” he mocked her with his laughter. She was taken back to a time in her childhood when she had been helpless, when a man had laughed at her for even thinking about defending herself. But then she had not had a knife, and she had been so young… all the tragedy and sorrow that had plagued her was now falling into the past, where it belonged. She was not that girl any longer. She did not have to be that girl. For so long she had been caught in a vicious circle, as though she had been frozen in time and unable to grow into the woman she was supposed to become. She had remained a child, protected from the world, frail and afraid.

No longer.

Evan’s love had freed her. Evan had looked at her in a way no other man had ever looked at her. She knew she could be greater than she had ever been before, and she was not about to fall into the same traps as she used to. Then, she would have thrown the knife away and collapsed to the ground. She would have wrapped her arms around her head and rocked back and forth, weeping helplessly until someone came along to save her. But this time, she was not going to cry. This time she was going to show evil that she was not going to recoil into the darkness.

And she was not alone.

She grinned when she saw Evan moving towards her.

“Aye, ye like this. I’ll show ye what ye like,” the man said, but he had misunderstood completely. He lunged towards Amelie, but his motion was cut short as Evan drove his sword into the man’s back. Amelie watched his eyes grow wide, and then he slumped to the ground as Evan pulled his sword away. He rushed to Amelie’s side. His face was flecked with blood, and one cheek was crimson. He was breathing heavily and he looked bruised.

“Are ye well?” he asked.

Amelie flung her arms around him and buried herself into his chest. She held him tightly, dropping the dagger to the ground. All the tension unfurled and came out of her in warm sobs.