We Meet Again

"They shot Captain Rhodes!"

For a moment, the world was still as if it were unable to process what had just happened. Hopkins heard nothing, saw nothing, felt nothing.

But then there was an uproar and a wet splatter on his arm, and Hopkins snapped back to his senses.

"Kill them all! Leave no survivors!"

And that was his cue to get moving. "Sanford," Hopkins hissed. "Help me get this damn sack off."

After a string of curses and fumbling, Sanford pulled the bag off of Hopkins' head, revealing the battle in the bailey. Swords clashed, bodies fell, scarlet speckled the snow, and former Captain Rhodes lay still amidst it all.

Exhaling sharply, Hopkins wriggled his hands free from his bonds and went to help Sanford.

"You need to help Rhodes," Hopkins said as he undid the knot around the doctor's wrists. "And if you can't do anything for him, then get out of here."

The rope binds dropped to the ground, and Sanford rubbed his wrists. "Seems you don't know me very well, Hopkins," he said. "When would I ever leave my comrades to die alone?"

Hopkins nodded with a smile and the two went their separate ways. Turner had already been freed and was locked in a showdown with a red coated soldier. Fists raised and at the ready, Turner dodged the thrusts of his enemy's sword, and when the opportunity arose, landed a swift blow to his opponent's jaw, bringing an end to the confrontation.

Hopkins scooped the dropped sword off the ground, clutching it tight with resolve.

"What are you doing with that?" Turner asked.

"Rally the men, and stick together," Hopkins said. "I'm going after the Colonel."

Weaving through the raging conflict, Hopkins ran until he was centered with McCoy. He readied his borrowed sword. "Colonel McCoy," Hopkins said. "We meet again."

McCoy whirled around, brows raised at the appearance of Hopkins. His surprise shifted to arrogance with a small scoff. "Indeed we do, Captain Hopkins." The Colonel drew his saber. "This shall be quite the dance."

Hopkins made the first move, charging at the Colonel. Their blades clashed as McCoy moved to parry, the metallic clang of steel ringing through the fort. Blows were exchanged, traded back and forth. Sword on sword, iron on iron.

Despite the frigid gusts, sweat beaded on Hopkins' forehead, and his sword felt hot and heavy in his hand. The Colonel exerted none of the same exhaustion as Hopkins had and that was unsettling. Hopkins' strength was draining fast, yet this seemed like a leisurely walk for McCoy, who didn't appear to be tiring anytime soon. How long could Hopkins keep this up?

The Colonel swung his blade, aiming for Hopkins' throat. Hopkins leapt backwards, only to stumble over his own feet. He fell to the ground. Grimace on his face, Hopkins reached for his sword, but McCoy kicked it away and placed his boot on Hopkins' chest, pinning him down.

"You fought valiantly," McCoy said, "but alas, it was in vain." The Colonel raised his blade above his head. "Send my regards to Captain Rhodes when you see him."

Hopkins averted his gaze and prepared for the worse, but it never came. He opened his eyes to see Fox with a sword in hand. The Colonel dragged a hand across his face, smearing the blood fresh on his cheek.

"Sergeant Fox," McCoy said, gaze dark. "A traitor."

Fox smiled. "Yeah, betrayal is a bad habit of mine."

Hopkins rose off the ground and stood beside Fox. "Just so you know," he said, "this doesn't mean we're on good terms now."

"We can discuss that after we give the Colonel a taste of our blades."

The two soldiers rushed for McCoy, twin furies of sharpened steel. But the Colonel was surprisingly adept and nimble. He returned each of their advancements with one of his own. Slash and dodge, slash and dodge.

McCoy slashed his sword, lower than Hopkins had anticipated, and the blade lodged in his leg. Hopkins fell to one knee as McCoy landed a kick to Fox's chest, sending him sprawling. Pulling his sword out, McCoy swung his sword at Hopkins' head, but before the blade could cut through his neck, an arrow struck the Colonel's throat.

McCoy dropped his sword, his hands clawing at the blood spewing from his neck. Seconds later, the Colonel collapsed. Dead.

Hopkins whirled to see who had shot the arrow. Foster, still holding his bow in position, beamed faintly at him, but Hopkins didn't return the smile.

"Foster!" Hopkins reached a helpless hand out towards him. "Watch—"

Chaney drove his blade through Foster's stomach and backed him against the fortress wall. Chaney pulled his sword out, and Foster slid to the ground.

"No, no, no!"

Fox grabbed his sword off the ground and scrambled to his feet, charging directly at Chaney. With one arc of his blade, Fox cut clean through Chaney's neck, and his head rolled to the ground, a victorious smile still plastered on his ugly face.

Hopkins limped to where Foster lay, bleeding out. "Keith."

"Andrew."

Hopkins was at a loss for words. His hands trembled as he swallowed back the panic rising in the back of his throat.

"There's nothing you can do," Foster said, his voice soft. "Move on."

"How can I?" Hopkins said. "Most of my men are dead. Captain Rhodes is dead. We've lost the fort, and you…"

"You have to persevere for those who do live. Turner is alive. Sanford is alive. Jacobs, Freeman, and Fox are alive. Go. Fight for them."

Hopkins rose shakily to his feet as Fox crouched down beside Foster. He caught a few words of forgiveness before Foster's fragile voice went silent. Fox stood back up again. He exchanged a solemn glance with Hopkins, one that confirmed what Hopkins had already suspected.

Foster was dead.

Turner, Sanford and the rest of the men fought their way through the sea of red coats until they were beside Hopkins and Fox.

"We fight to the bitter end," Hopkins said. "And should we die, then we die with honor." He raised his sword and charged. His troops raised a war cry, running alongside him.

Just before the two forces met, a horn sounded through the valley, and the ground shook with the thunderous roar of a hundred hoofbeats. Hopkins' men exchanged bewildered looks, and Hopkins let his sword fall to the ground.

Ellison did it. He delivered the message. He's returned with reinforcements.

Hopkins laughed softly in relief.

At last, they were saved.

My dearest love,

If you are reading this, it is likely that I have fallen along with many of my men, and I am sorry to say I will not be returning home. But please, do not grieve for I have given my life for a stand worth taking. I have given my life so you may live yours, so our children may grow into beautiful people, so my soldiers may return to their families. I must admit that originally, I was foolish. I believed sacrificing everyone else so that I could return home to you would be acceptable. It was not. It was selfish. It was cruel. I learned the errors of my ways and acted the right manner, the honorable manner. And perhaps that has cost me my life, but I don't regret it for a second. I've completed what I set out to do, and my purpose has been fulfilled. If given a second chance, I wouldn't change a single thing.

I hope you will forgive me for leaving you and the children so soon, and I pray the wound my death inflicts will heal without a scar as that would be the most regrettable for me. I do not wish to cause you any pain. My dearest, I love you. Please do not forget that. And my absence, though long, will not last forever. We shall be reunited again one day, and for you, I will wait an eternity.

Until we meet again,

Daniel Rhodes

The End