Chapter 10: The Purple Enemy

It has been a week since the group has left the small cottage and Eliana’s ankle is only getting worse. She can barely walk on it now.

“Are you okay,” Jasper questions softly as they pack up their camp.

Eliana tries to ignore the heat emanating from his body. She swallows and glances up at him. “Yes, I am fine.”

His brow twitches with confusion, but he leans back. “Allow me to carry your bag. Your ankle cannot hold much longer.”

Pride fills her chest. “I am able to handle it. Your shoulder must be in pain as well.”

“It is healing up now,” he sighs before pivoting away.

“Uh, ma’am,” Eliana moves toward Beatrice, holding at bay her pain.

“Oh dear, I told you to call me mama. I am so used to Jasper calling me that,” Beatrice chuckles as she picks up her own bag.

“Oh, yes, I am sorry. When do you suppose we will arrive at Viptan?”

“Oh honey, very soon. Not even another day’s journey.”

“Alright—”

“What is that,” Jasper crouches as a rumble echoes against the trees.

Conrad steps up next to his son and raises his nose to the air. “I smell horses. As well as man. Quickly, let’s go.”

Fear pumping through her veins, Eliana runs behind Beatrice, her ankle shrieking in protest. The next step she takes puts too much pressure on the injury and she fumbles forward.

She does not hit the ground, though, as a strong embrace holds her up. The arm wraps around her waist, causing her stomach to jump into her chest, her heart bursting. Jasper’s breath brushes her ear. As he speaks, his gravelly tone reverberates throughout Eliana’s body, causing a hot stone to form in the base of her stomach.

“Careful,” he grunts, helping her stand once more.

“Thank you,” Eliana pushes him away, her fingertips burning as they leave his arm.

She can hear the horses as they approach and the shouts of men, armor clanking. Who is it?

Conrad pivots around as there is movement in front of them now as well. Slowly, the strangers appear before the group. Eliana hides her gasp as she recognizes the violet hue of their armor. There are ten men, soldiers, in front of them clad in heavy armor. They each are brandishing their swords as those on horseback catch up from the rear.

Eliana swallows her fear. These men are from Climont. Has Drake really seen fit to assassinate his fiancé? Are the werebears that attacked the cottage following his orders as well? He could have all of Drein once we are married. Unless he only wants to take down the entire country instead.

“That female,” one of the men from atop a horse, points at Eliana with his sword, “Is ours. The royal house of Climont requires her presence.”

Jasper furrows his brow, but steps in front of Eliana. “Well you can tell that bastard that he holds no power in Murduk, and especially not over the Xefol.”

Beatrice covers Eliana’s back from the soldiers on foot.

“Please, it is okay,” she swallows once more. “I do not want any of you harmed. I will go with them.”

Setting her chin, she digs her nails into her palms. Jasper gently grasps her wrist as his father speaks.

“We will not hand her over.”

“We will protect you,” Jasper whispers to her as his eyes remain trained on the head soldier.

“If you so wish. It will be the death of you all.”

With the wave of the soldier’s sword, the enemy moves in.

“Stay back,” Jasper yells before lunging at one of the men.

Eliana spins in a circle, trying to help in any way she can, but she does not have a weapon. Both Conrad and Beatrice are halfway through the transformation. Their hands are forming into paws as they swipe out at the soldiers.

Jasper grabs the sword of one of the men he knocks to the ground before running another Climont soldier through with it. He spins the blade around and catches a couple of horses on the legs, causing them to throw their riders.

Eliana’s vision is tainted with crimson and the violet hue of the Climont uniform.

The leader jumps down from his steed, turning his sword around in his hand before swinging it at Jasper.

The young werebear dodges before throwing his own up in defense. The swords meet in the middle for a moment before Jasper pushes off and pivots his body, following through with the blade, slicing through the soldier’s torso.

Eliana is in awe, blinded by Jasper’s actions, that she is unable to sense the enemy men rushing at her. Jasper turns, his expression falling into horror.

“Eliana!”

He pushes her away. She falls against a tree, her arm scraping the bark on the way to the ground. She ignores the hot, burning agony. Jasper finally has time to shift, his hands beginning to form. Two soldiers jump at Jasper as his body becomes covered in fur. He tears into the first man, his teeth now those of his bear counterpart. He is not quick enough, though, as the second Climont warrior rushes forward, swinging around his blade and slicing through the front of the Xefol.

“Jasper,” Eliana’s scream rips through her throat and shakes her whole body. The shriek refuses to die out as the young werebear glances back at her, a smirk tugging on his lips, before he tumbles, falling to his knees. “Stop,” her entire body goes numb, all of the agony disappearing. Pushing on her right foot, she lunges forward, rushing to Jasper’s side.

The Climont soldier raises up his sword once more, aiming it now at Eliana. In a fit of crazed terror, she grabs hold of one of the abandoned daggers on the ground. Her hand lands a little too far up, a portion of her finger slicing into the blade. Her mind a blur of panic, she screams out as she thrusts the weapon up, finding it a new home in the soldier’s abdomen. Tears burn her eyes and overflow as sobs wrack her chest.

Crimson liquid flows down from the enemy, coating Eliana’s hands and wrists. He hemorrhages, his grip on his sword loosening and allowing it to fall to the earth.

As the soldier drops to the forest floor, Eliana’s mind clears ever so slightly. She is unable to see that Conrad and Beatrice, both now in bear form, force the few soldiers remaining away from her. Their roars echo throughout the forest, bouncing off the trees.

Eliana collapses next to Jasper who now lay unconscious, his blood pooling underneath him. Dry heaves take over her body, her lungs closing down. She gasps for air as she picks up Jasper’s head and cradles it.

“Please, wake up.” Her tears fall and mingle with the crimson droplets along his cheeks. “I am sorry. This is my fault.” Her words are distorted through her closed off throat, and Eliana whines. She rocks back and forth. “Come back, please.” Gasping for air, she leans her head down, placing her forehead on Jasper’s, “Please.”

He does not move, his complexion pale.

She whispers, “I am sorry.”

Eliana tightens her grip and devolves into a sobbing, quivering, wreck.