tip of the knife was a millimeter from Samuel’s neck, Blake managed to grab Sera’s wrist, and tackle her to the ground.
On the ground, wrestling with Sera, in the thick of all the fighting, Blake felt himself get kneed hard in the solo plexus. Sera had managed to lift her knee, and knock the wind out of him.
Blake rolled on his side, and before he could catch his breath, he found himself kicked in the face by several other vampires, falling on him like ants.
But Blake also noticed that Sera had dropped her dagger, and in one motion, he managed to roll over, snatch it, roll one more time, and then take a knee and throw it, hoping his aim was perfect.
It was. Sera had not expected it, and the dagger lodged perfectly in her throat. Seconds later, she collapsed, eyes wide open in shock. Blake watched her fall, finally, dead.
But Sera and McCleod were but minor victories. Blake was still terribly outnumbered, as was Samuel, and with every passing second, dozens more vampires pounced on them. Blake found himself getting kicked and punched left and right.
As he stumbled back, trying to fight off ten men at once, trying to catch his breath, the other vampires suddenly parted ways for Rynd, who now faced off with him. Blake squared off, while at the same time, he noticed that Samuel, several feet away, was squaring off with Kyle.
Blake went blow for blow with Rynd, using long swords and shields; but he was no match, he knew, for Rynd’s evil power. Rynd was too well-rested, too fast, too strong, too treacherous. And Blake could see, out of the corner of his eye, that Samuel was not doing much better. Kyle had him, too, on the ropes.
Blake felt himself losing with each passing blow, and knew that it would only be a matter of minutes until he, and Samuel, were both dead. He only prayed that his final moments could be his most valiant ones on earth.
Suddenly, Blake sensed a disturbance in the crowd. There was a murmur, then agitation, and then he noticed scores of the enemy start to run, to scurry away.
Blake could not understand what was happening. Until finally, he saw what it was.
Approaching the battlefield was Caitlin’s brother. Sam. Blake could not believe it. He had never seen anyone look so embittered, so vicious. He didn’t even recognize him. Sam looked like a man possessed, like he had been to the depths of hell and back. He fought with a power and courage and ferocity that Blake had never before witnessed. He sliced through vampire after vampires as if slicing through butter, leaving a trail of dead bodies in his wake. He was cutting his way through the crowd, and heading right for Rynd. And he had a deadly vengeance in his eyes.
Not a moment too soon for Blake. Rynd brought down a vicious blow, right for Blake’s head, and Blake held up his own sword with two hands, blocking it. He held the sword at bay, just inches from his face. But Rynd’s sword was inching lower, and Blake knew that he had but seconds left to live.
But that was all he needed. Sam cut his way through the crowd and reached Rynd just in time, kicking him so hard that Rynd went flying like a ragdoll across the field.
Blake, grateful, wanted to thank Sam. But he saw that he couldn’t: Sam’s face was like that of a wild animal, not even recognizable, and Blake felt scared just looking at it. In fact, Blake wanted to run, and knew he should get out of Sam’s path. But he was frozen in fear, and he had to see what happened next.
Blake looked over and saw that Rynd, upon looking up at Sam, was terrified, too. He never thought he would see a creature like Rynd be scared of anything—but the look on Sam’s face had done it to him. Blake wondered what could have happened to Sam to make him like this.
And then he remembered: Polly. Sam was on a path of vengeance.
Sam took three huge steps, and raised his sword high, right for Rynd.
Rynd held up his own sword to block it, but Sam brought down his sword with such power that it cut Rynd’s sword clean in half.
Rynd, shocked, looked up at his own sword in wonder.
Sam then leaned back and kicked Rynd’s wrist, sending the hilt of his sword flying, and in the same motion, kicked