South Carolina
October 1784
"Get up, bastard."
Preston knelt on hands and knees, his body aching from the fight with... he looked hardly human. Deformed. Monstrous. He turned his head to look at the newcomer and smiled through bloodied lips. "Tom!"
Heyward sneered at the pathetic shadow of a man who'd killed his lover. Not a man, but an animal, unworthy of God's gift. The voice in the back of his mind, mostly silent since Philadelphia, sang softly promising revenge through blood. He snarled.
"It's General Heyward," Private Therrit said. He cleared his throat. "Sir, by order of Governor Moultrie, you are..."
"Wait a minute," John said, getting to his feet. "I want to talk to him first."
Tom drew his sword. Two other soldiers, the only ones left capable of fighting, fumbled with their rifles.
"I said wait a minute!" Preston hurried forward. "Tom, I know you're upset, but together we..." He choked as something heavy and strong clenched around his throat. He tried to wrench it off, but encountered only air. He couldn't breathe! He twisted futilely, trying to force air past his throat...
"Upset?" Heyward demanded through gritted teeth. "
I am going to kill you!"
Therrit looked between his thrashing leader and the cold, implacable stranger. "What's happening!?"
"Then I am going to kill them."
One rifleman raised his weapon and fired. The shot ricocheted inches from Heyward and flew into a birch tree.
"Then," Tom threatened, pointing at the flag, "I am going to kill
that."
Therritt charged. Heyward pointed, propelling the still thrashing colonel into him before turning on the riflemen. As Colonel Preston gulped air into his grateful lungs, heaving with his head down, he heard cries and shouts, the clash of metal, silence. Then slow, determined hoof beats.
"He's coming!" cried the private, panicked. Nonetheless he tried to shelter his colonel, covering his body and bracing for the blow that would end his life.
Heyward stopped a foot away. "How touching," he sneered.
John lifted his head. "What the hell has happened to you?"
"Do you let children fight your battles now,
Colonel?" Tom rested both hands on the pommel of his saddle. "Alright, boy. Show me what you can do."
"Don't do it!" Preston warned. Tom's demeanor made it clear that somehow he'd almost choked him to death. From twenty feet away. This was..he didn't know what it was. He pushed himself up and glared first at the broken bodies of his soldiers, then at his former guardian. "Do you let your
horse fight for you,
General?"
Heyward laughed darkly and dismounted.
"Colonel...?"
"Whatever happens, stay out of this," John growled. He drew his sword and crouched.
Tom swished his sword back and forth a few times, then entered a more or less formal dueling stance. Therrit scrambled away as Preston slashed high. Heyward caught it easily, countered low. Preston pivoted away, and as his foe stumbled swung for the shoulder. Tom ducked under the whistling blade and spun about, the two swords striking sparks as they slammed into each other.
"He's very good, actually," a woman's voice told Therrit.
The private whirled around but saw nothing. Behind him Heyward lunged. John beat his blade aside and counterthrust, opening a small welt on the general's belly.
"Very, very good."
Therrit looked up a tree to find an orange cat intently watching the battle.
"Unfortunately, my guy's much better," the cat added before looking down at him. "You should probably go."
Therrit stumbled back, one hand reaching for his sword, the other covering his mouth. "My God," he whispered. "Oh my God."
The cat sighed. "No, you're not going insane. You're suffering a stress based delusion following your first battle. It's more common than you think. Now go!"
Across the field John steadily retreated before a flurry of blows. He'd hit perhaps three or four times, but none even slowed Tom down - not that he really wanted to kill him. He fought defensively trying to reason through it. Could Rutledge and Moultrie have been right about Tom after all? Even so, why this sudden anger? Why not at least try to reason or talk his way out of it? Why try to kill...?
Preston landed on something round and his foot shout out from under him. He tried to bring his sword up, but Tom thrust his sword just under his Adam's apple.
"How fitting," Heyward said, stepping over the fallen Carolina banner. He braced and slowly, inexorably increased pressure on the blade. "Any last words?"
"Why!?" he rasped.
"For Anne!" Tom cried. He thrust, but at that moment John slashed with his sabre, forcing Tom's sword into the ground. He rolled in that direction trying to break the blade or at least disarm his guardian, but Heyward brought up the sword too fast.
Preston stumbled and wiped at his throat. "Anne!?" His eyes widened with realization. "I didn't kill her!"
"LIAR!"
"I swear it on my life!"
"Your life is worthless to me," Heyward roared. Enough games. He tripped and pinned John with a thought and approached, bloody sword drawn.
"Rutledge sent me there to arrest you!"
"I will deal with
him soon enough."
"But he's d....I didn't kill her! I wish I knew who did! Maybe he sent somebody after me!"
He could be right, the calmer voice in Tom's mind murmured.
"You stay out of this!"
KILL HIM!
"You stay out of this too!"
Preston struggled against whatever bound him. What could do this? This was impossible! He racked his brain. "Tom!"
Heyward raised his sword high, like an executioner.
"I swear it on the life of my daughter!"
Tom snarled.
You can't afford to be wrong about this.
Neither man knew how long Tom held that pose. Seconds. Minutes. An hour? Finally Tom's breathing eased. He lowered his sword and turned away. Preston felt his bonds loosen and leapt up.
"Tom?"
"Go."
"Tom, how are you doing...what are you? What's going on? How can...?"
"GO!"
"Tom,.." Preston swallowed. "I'm sorry about..."
Heyward whirled, eyes jet black. "Say her name and I
will kill you."
John lowered his gaze. "...about everything. I..." He turned and fled.
Tom felt the anger and rage drain out of him, leaving him empty, alone, and more confused than before. If...
If John was innocent, then who killed her? He sank to his knees and stared at his hands.
"Mercy," Bast said behind him. "An advanced trait! Excellent!"
"Shut up,"
"You've mastered what my brother 'gave' you." She padded past him with a swish of her tail. "You're ready now."
Heyward watched her sullenly. "Ready for what?"
"To fetch me dinner."
