Chapter 23

My head throbs with a pounding ache. I can barely focus my thoughts, but one rides above everything.

Gweneth.

Three guards stand between me and the path where I saw her taken. Three dead men if they don't get out of my way.

I growl and rush them, again. It hasn't worked yet; they repel my attacks every time but I will not stop. I howl as I run, fists swinging, ducking, and trying to dodge. But when there are three opponents for each of us it is impossible to avoid every hit.

I take one to my temple, rocking my head to one side and, unfortunately, driving me into another blow from something that feels harder than bone. It staggers me and I fall back.

I fall against Khiara. We lean on each other, panting. One look between us is all it takes. His resolve is every bit as strong as mine. No steel could be forged harder.

We push off one another and attack. Blows land, blows taken, only to fail yet again. Then the worst thing that could possibly happen does. Reinforcements come around the corner.

Three on one was impossible. This takes that to some new realm beyond that. Some level that I do not even have a word for.

I close with one of them, hoping to tangle up the three already on us and use that as a way to keep more from finding an opening. My foot comes down on something wet and soft and slips. My front leg slides without purchase. The muscles in my thigh scream in protest as they stretch to an unnatural degree then the tendons pop. I can't hold myself up, if I do, I'll tear something.

I go down.

Bodies pile onto me. So much weight, so many, that I cannot take a breath. My vision darkens as clouds push in. My lungs burn. Muscles scream in protest. But the fire in my heart doesn't only burn, it rages.

All the pain is nothing compared to losing her and I have. I've lost her. She's being taken by the Maulavi and there is only one way that ends.

Through a tangle of limbs, I lock eyes with Khiara. He is also on the ground. Five, six, maybe more piled on top of him. When he sees me, he smiles.

"Brother," he gasps.

"Brother," I huff with the last of my air.

Moving as almost one person we get our hands beneath us. Never breaking eye contact I struggle and strain until my elbows are locked. I scrabble my feet and find purchase with my toes. Bracing. Ready.

A barely perceptible nod at the last possible moment before the darkness lays claim to my thoughts and brings an unending finality.

As one we roar and push. The weight is incredible. More than I have ever lifted. More than either of us should be able to lift. But one fingers width by one finger width we rise.

I get up far enough that I can breathe at last. Welcome relief floods my lungs as air fills them. I dig deeper. They grunt, growl, they struggle to hold us down. But there is no stopping us. They have my dragoste. All considerations are secondary to saving her.

"Rahr!" I roar and hear my brother's voice matching and echoing.

Suddenly it tips in our favor and bodies fly through the air as we explode upwards. They fall like rubble from a cave in. Limbs askew and entangled with one another. Khiara and I stand, panting, exhausted, but far from done.

We turn and there are more. Always more. The power of the Maulavi is fully on display. They come around the corner and form a wall between us and where I last saw her being taken. They're fresh. Armed. Ready.

Or they think they are. They have no idea what they face.

Khiara and I support one another, taking the moment to catch our breath before the fight continues. The sergeant barks orders and the newcomers come forward. Armor clattering, weapons glinting. They are the superior force and they know it.

The ones we tossed aside are getting to their feet, joining with their fellows. I look at Khiara and chuckle.

"Brother," I grunt.

"Seen worse," he answers then he too is chuckling.

I rise to my full height and glare at the approaching soldiers.

"You've got one chance," I order, my voice strong and booming despite the fact my lungs still burn and ache. I make my offer once again for those freshly arrived.

"One chance?" the Sargent scoffs. "Surrender and we'll take you in peacefully."

"Wrong choice," I snarl and as one my brother and I charge the line.

They brace themselves for us. Dropping into partial crouches and raising clubs into a defensive position. We roar a wordless war cry of defiance. This is for Gwen. We will not go down without doing everything we possibly can.

The ferocity of our attack is enough to make the line waver. Some of them stumble, sliding back on ground slick with blood, a lot, if not most of which is ours. One of them loses his footing. He slips and my fist catches him under his exposed jaw.

It's a momentary win. A burning instance of hope before they collapse around us and we're forced back. Khiara is struck on the sides and then a blow to the head. He's dazed, his defenses down, and a club is coming. I grab the wrist behind the swing. It slips free but I manage to deflect it far enough that it misses Khiara's head, hitting him on the shoulder instead.

I miss a hit on me and pain blasts through my head. I stumble back. My vision is blurry and won't clear, yet something is happening. They don't press their advantage.

Khiara is at my side, keeping me up. He points, saying something, but the words don't make sense. Refusing to add up. He thrusts his finger forward and I follow. The guards have turned away then there is screaming.

"Help," Khiara says. "The resistance!"

A smile spreads over my face despite the pain.

"We have to get Gwen," I growl.

"I'm with you, brother," he says, and we charge.