Chapter twenty nine
The soldier was sure he had heard a  noise, foot steps to be precise. And although sweat dripped down his face and his heartbeat increased, he stalked forward carefully with his sword ready.
Now the noise came from up the stairs, making him turn quickly enough to face it.
The last thing he felt was a hand around him from behind and a knife to his throat.
Not long after, Philip sliced the soldier and pushed him down. He retrieved a cloth and busied himself with wiping the blood thoroughly off it. "You can come out now! The con is over,"he shouted into nothingness to the man he thought he was talking to, precisely the one he was supposed to be with.
It worried him slightly when seconds after, Nax had not emerged. The general had been the cause of the distracting footsteps, but now the shadow he saw approaching was surely not Nax's.
The silhouette on the wall came closer and retrieved a sword. That was when the Duke of Anfield knew he was supposed to run.
At that, he lifted a spear in one hand and a sword in the other and turned around, breaking into a fast-paced run from who the devil the shadow turned out to be.
Mathayus came out fully now and ran after him. Philip on the other hand, was expectedly and incredibly faster, not even caring to stop when opponent soldiers joined Mathayus in the chase after him. This made him realise returning Kilmarnock was a bigger deal than he thought it was.
And where in bloody hell was Nax when he was needed?!
The end of Philip's lane had a soldier awaiting him already, making the Duke frown in frustration. Still there was no way he was going to let the hindrance of one man get him killed tonight. And with his mind made up, he increased pace while glancing at the spear in his hand.
It took him two seconds to accurately calculate his aim at the man before him just some meters away. With one last glance at the sword, then the soldier, he gave it a hard, straight throw forward.
The blade turned and soared, tearing through the air in a desperately fast and unavoidable line. Just before the target could avoid it, it pierced straight through his head and forced him down immediately.
Not being at all surprised he had achieved that, Philip jumped over the dead man and turned left to a branching hallway, not stopping even once.
Finally, Nax came into sight. The general, for some reason, had a bucket of coal in his hand, patiently waiting for Philip.
When the Duke had safely passed where he stood, he emptied the black stones of charcoal in one straight line across the breath of the corridor.
Nax never slowed down or lost focus even with their opponents nearing him daringly.
He snatched one of the fire torches on the walls and gave Mathayus one last, angry smirk. The flames lit up the coal before him ablaze. With that done, he followed behind Philip.
Mathayus and his men stared at the wall of fire before them and stopped chasing. Somehow he couldn't help but admire the razor sharp wit they all had. What a perfect obstruction.
But at the same time, he was twice as angered. He screamed and held his sword up.
And when he turned around, he pushed the blade through one of his men.
***
Earl watched Jason lay before him with a bleeding stomach, then studied Monica who tried her best to apply pressure upon the spot with a small cloth.
Soon enough though, the piece had been drenched with his blood and had readily become useless.
"I thought the best always went down last Earl of Vetcom," the Marquess grinned beautifully while his eyes blinked continuously.
Jason groaned and looked up at him. Soon after though, his attention returned to Monica who tore yet another piece of her already open garment to wrap his wound.
Earl Robinson smiled at the way he was ignored when he felt a new aura of presence apart from theirs. Slowly, he turned around and found Nichols he so badly wanted to fight. But now the man had a wounded arm…what a pleasant spice! Hovering behind him, a handful of his men stood supportively, waiting for his order.
Too bad the Marquess was not that patient.
With his smile never leaving his face, he rasped specifically at the secretary, "At long last."
He aimed both his pistols at the opponent group and released fire. Deliberately, his aim never landed on Nichols, for obvious reasons. By the time half the men had gone down, he ran out of bullets.
His grin just increased strangely, "Words of advice for your next life, never ever choose to use blades alone when you plan to fight born killers. What did you think we were, farm fowls?"
By now, he refilled his gun and resumed aim again. But a feminine hand came over his to stop him. "Be strong Jason," Monica turned to the Earl on the floor. Now when she looked up at Earl Robinson, she nodded, "Stay with him. Leave these dogs to me."
Earl happily handed his guns to her and watched her stride to where the rest of the men had nudges Nichols towards.
With them gone, he faced Jason again, wiping his tongue over his lips, "Oh how is enjoy taunting you."
***
When Philip and Nax decided to stop running and catch their breaths, they got company. Although luckily, it was clearly not his foes.
The last Prince of England, along with his elder brother ran into them, both having a disturbed grim on.
"We have a man down. Jason," Timothy announced immediately he found the two.
"He's dead!" Philip's heartbeat tripled with his eyes widening in shock.
The laughter he got out of both lads was surely the last thing he expected on hearing the news.
With a bump to the Duke's shoulder, Raymond said, "The Earl? Die? Is that even possible? His egotistical soul cannot be carried by the ferryman."
Philip smiled and silently agreed with the notion. Afterwards, he tipped his head upwards and inquired, "And Monica?"
"I thought you'd never ask," Timothy shrugged.
His brother added as he gestured to his left, "We passed a river of corpses on our way here. And it happens your little mistress was responsible. She is an ultimate killing machine."
The Duke's eyes cringed in admiration while he thought, "Let's go help out, shall we?"
***
She moved stealthily, holding the guns up straight. No life was near, she could tell. And with that, she slowly rounded the circular corridor. Her swords hung freely just at the sides of her waist.
At some point, she stopped and listened. Steps approached from the other end that wasn't visible to her.
While she kept silent, the steps became more regular until it turned into a run. Monica made a half crouch pose and waited patiently.
Something soared violently to her from the bend of the hallway with lightning speed. She dashed to her left before trying to figure out what. Just after it went narrowly past her, she realized it was an arrow…and a deep frown of disapproval settled on her brows. Seems they realised she was there.
Now they came fully into view and shot daggers with their eyes at her; well she returned the favour. Realising she was greatly outnumbered did not seem to batter her confidence one bit. If anything, she glowered and clutched her guns tighter.
Monica was surely not aware why her foes stood like sculptures…but it did come to her advantage.
The lady hadn't given them prior warning before pulling the veil around her hair off and tossing it to them.
As confused as they expectedly were, they studied the garment in the air for any sign of trap. All they saw was…nothing. It successfully blocked the sight from anything beyond it though, and of course stole their attention.
In that little speck of time, bullets pierced through the first row of soldiers in numbers that proved their death was sure. It took the rest of them a moment to realise the source of attack was from the other side of the veil…from Monica.
So the garment…was to blind them?
By the time the red cloth had floated a while longer and danced down to their feet, Monica had switched from guns to swords.
The men gawked at her somewhat fearfully. It was one thing to be a good fighter and another to be a good fighter with a level of sixth sense.
The Scottish rounded either blade in circles by her sides and pounced forward to them.