Forging Ties (Ties, Book 3) | ✓

Chapter 4

They gathered outside of the doors of the old church, a unit of soldiers twenty men strong divided up into smaller teams of four who fought back to back and side by side. Hamish was in a pair with Simon, who led their team, and Tris and Roope were their second pair.

Each team leader gave a nod to the Captain, confirming their men were ready. They couldn't afford to wait long. The vampires inside would already know they were there.

Their Captain gave a count of three on his fingers and two men rammed their shoulders into the doors, forcing them open. They charged into the room.

The vampires were stronger, faster, more bloodthirsty and vicious, but the swords, armour, and sheer numbers of the soldiers evened the playing field. It was the teamwork of the soldiers that tipped the battle in their favour, though. The vampires fought wildly, with little regard for one another, but the humans, in their little teams of four, were unbreakable. No man fought alone.

The last of the five vampires fell to Simon's sword, but he made no fuss. He gave it an extra stab through its eye to make absolutely sure it was dead and sent their Captain a nod of confirmation.

Hamish sat down and watched as injuries were catalogued and the bodies of the vampires were double and triple checked. Nobody but him seemed to notice when somebody who was not one of their men walked through the doors. A teenager with dark skin and voluminous black hair in a bright red hooded sweatshirt.

Kit. Hamish shot a worried look towards his Captain. The man was good at what he did, but he'd always been disdainful towards mages. Surely he wouldn't be any more impressed by Kit.

But things were different now. Things with the humans had... huh.

None of this made any sense.

Kit shot the mutilated corpse of a vampire a look of disgust on his way over to Hamish. "Yes, this is a dream."

"Oh," Hamish said. "This wasn't really a nightmare, if you were worried."

"I wasn't. We need to talk."

"About...?"

"We should get the others first. Come one."

"Uh, okay."

Hamish followed Kit out of the church and down a set of dark, narrow stairs that hadn't been there before. Three figures walked down the stairs ahead of them. Two of them wore robes, though only one appeared to be a mage with his long, golden hair. The third man had his hand resting on the back of the mage's neck as they made their way down the stairs.

As Hamish got closer, he realised the mage was Duran. Hamish still had his sword in his hand. Well, if this was a dream...

Hamish grabbed the man who had his hand on Duran by the back of his hair, swept his sword around, and slit the man's throat.

Duran slammed his back against the wall, staring up at Hamish in alarm, but his fear slowly melted away and as it did the length of his hair receded.

Hamish looked the man in robes up and down. He had auburn hair. Hamish recognised him from the memory Duran had shared with everyone through Kit.

Hamish offered Duran his sword. "This is a dream. You can do whatever you want."

Duran ignored the sword. "Then can I just..." He stared at the auburn haired man for a few seconds until he abruptly vanished. Duran nodded his satisfaction. "There. Not my problem anymore."

"You're more forgiving than I would be."

"It has nothing to do with forgiveness." He turned his attention to Kit. "Is this real? Not this, obviously, but the two of you?"