Chapter 74 - Ultimatum
Catherine drank her fill and kept drinking until finally, she sensed the weakness in her opponent turn to struggle.
She ripped with her teeth and even as air gurgled out through the severed windpipe and it made the last blood froth, she stared down into the face of her opponent.
With a savage growl, Catherine shifted her hand to grip the bloodied throat and turned with her hands in a sharp movement that snapped the neck.
Even as she staggered upright and away, her world stuttered. In surprise, Cathrine looked down at herself. There was so much blood, and with her rage fading, a massive fatigue overwhelmed her, and she fell to her knees.
The weakness attacked her in waves, and she fought to lift her head. There was something important... someone, important... Catherine fell into the dust, and she never heard the roar of his anguish as her eyes fluttered shut and her breath sighed from her body.
The Drake and Priest paid no heed to the cries of Dillon or the men it took to restrain him, as they stared at each other. The smirk on Priest’s face almost drove Drake to attack, but he could not undo Catherine’s sacrifice.
“It seems we have both lost,” Priest taunted, but the Drake kept himself from snarling with immense effort.
“Pity, but highly entertaining, cat fights always amuse me. Let’s see, how about a rematch. Your Dillon... against... me...′ Priest smirked as he suggested it. They both knew Dillon stood no chance against Priest. He would put up a fight, but he could not win.
“No, you will fight me,” the Drake hissed, and Priest laughed out loud.
“Please, we already tried that. Let’s not waste time. Dillon or forfeit...” the ultimatum hung in the air with the weight of a thundercloud, a choice that was no choice.
Dillon stormed from the crowd and attacked. His sword was deflected. Priest turned his grip and ripped the sword from Dillon’s grip in one smooth motion, disarming him.
Then he shifted his grip again and hit Dillon with the flat of his blade like a club. He sent Dillon to his knees in the dirt.
Dillon landed between Eastern soldiers, who kicked, stomped and beat him before they threw him back. He was bleeding and struggling to his knees, but he launched himself at Priest, who swiped at him with a boot but missed. As Dillon ripped his knife free and buried it to the hilt in Priest’s thigh.
Priest swore and kicked out at him with his uninjured leg. He lifted Dillon from his knees, where he fell and launched him several feet away.
Dillon rolled and would have gotten to his feet, but the knife he had embedded in Priest, hit him in the shoulder and ripped him off balance.
His head hit one of the boulders beside a cooking pit and split the rock in half. He got halfway to his feet, then toppled and could not stand.
“That was... fun... Thought he would have more anger in him, I just had his wife killed,” Priest scoffed as he readied his sword and started to walk in Dillon’s direction to finish the job.
“How about you just shut the f**k up,” the words were followed by an audible gasp and then complete silence. Priest frowned and then turned slowly on his heel.