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Chapter 109
The Final Battle V
“The Angel of Death”
Inside the Vault:
The Vault was a large room with massive walls and an equally massive ceiling. Solid enough to withstand most conventional weapons his engineers had told him, even a GBU 28. A 16 massive Lotus Columns carried it. Al Mansour cursed again: Von der Marwitz, the blonde devil, as his men called her had thoroughly ruined his well laid plans. Had he underestimated his Opponent? His thoughts wandered back to the Conversation he had with Anna at the Evening of her Recognition by the Royal Court.
What had she said back then? He couldn´t remember her words exactly, but his future Wife had warned him about underestimating Christine von der Marwitz. He had to admit he had not believed her. But obviously Anna had been right. Somehow the Pianist – and Al Mansour had to admit that he admired Chris Artistry as Pianist – had not gotten only through the desert but assembled a formidable fighting force.
He straightened himself and a cruel smile curled his lips. This would be the last time the blonde and her little desperate band of desert warriors would interfere with his plans. Al Mansour had planned to use the Sun Ray of Amon Ra for the first time differently. But this opportunity was as good as any to prove the power of this weapon.
He would obliterate the Pianist and the Medjai. No, the Gods would obliterate them. He was just the Vessel of their Power.
Confidently he strode to the centre of the vast room. There, on a Podium stood an apparatus which looked like a gun of the Age of Sail. A roughly 14-foot-long thick bronze barrel, 16 Inches Calibre his Scientists had told Al Mansour. After two thirds of the barrel there was something, which looked like a very large diamond, a crystal, shimmering in violet.
Like the Guns of the Age of Sail the barrel was mounted on a gun carriage with four Wheels – but not made of wood, wood was too fragile – but of Titanium Alloy and high-quality armour Steel.
To activate the mystical weapon, one had to press the Amulet of Horus on a pad behind it the Crystal. Only the Amulet would unleash the devastating power of the Sun Ray. The Amulet he wore around his neck. To get it meant to kill him. And nobody would kill him. He was the God King after all.
Al Mansour strode to the Podium … in the same Moment a tremendous detonation shook the ground. The vault´s massive door flew out of its hinges. The Blast hit Al Mansour fully in his back and threw him on the floor.
He, the God King, groaned – and struggled to get to his feet.
Like any ordinary human hit by a bomb blast.
Outside the door minutes before:
Sarah McKenzie inspected the massive door carefully. She had to admit whoever had installed that door knew his business. A smile curled her lips: The Black Lady knew her business too. And so far, she had picked every look and found her way through any barrier. That one was – from a professional standpoint – a challenge. A serious one, but she loved a challenge. The Canadian grabbed her things.
Chris watched as the Thief made her preparations. She had to keep her impatience in check, the blonde chided herself. Behind that door was Al Mansour. Behind that door was the Sun Ray of Amon Ra. Sarah McKenzie sensed the Pianist´s impatience “I am already there Chris” she said – without turning her back.
“She knows me too well” the blonde mused – and despite the situation at hand a small smile curled Chris lips.
The blonde forced herself to keep her focus, to keep her temperament in check. She trusted Sarah with her life. She turned to her friends and the Medjai “When this door opens Al Mansour is mine, and mine alone” The blonde looked each and everybody in their eye “Evie! You will disable that Sun Ray of Amon Ra!” The Egyptologist nodded; she should not escape the mesmerizing power of those emerald, green eyes “I will!”
Chris faced her other companions “You will watch her back – always!”
The Pianist turned to McKenzie “Are you ready Sarah!” The Thief smiled “As it happens oh Mistress of the Swords I am!” The Thief pressed a button on a small remote control. The door to the vault exploded with a crashing bang, which shook the Ground.
“I love Fireworks!” the Black Lady smiled.
Inside the Chamber:
In shock the Egyptians starred at the place where the massive door had been there just seconds ago. A cloud of thick acidly smelling white smoke swirled into the vast chamber. Like a Ghost, a tall blonde woman in black body armour stepped through it: Her two gleaming Katana´s pointing to the floor. Blood dripped from both blades on the black polished marble floor. It was the blonde devil – and Death followed in her wake.
Everybody sensed it: The moment the blonde stepped out of the smoke, the temperature in the Hall fell several degrees. The Room fell silent as if the chatter had been cut off by a sword. Death had come to the Chamber and his High Priestess with him. She would not leave without a proper sacrifice. Everybody felt it: Waves of Power radiated from the tall blonde as she strode forward, purposefully, confident.
She radiated Waves of Power and Waves of Icy Coldness.
Anybody who knew Chris well would have told her enemies that the Pianist was most dangerous when she radiated this icy coolness. At Aswan and in the Desert her rage had been red. Red and raw – and it nearly killed her when they waylaid their Attackers near the deserted Outpost of the Foreign Legion.
Now her rage was pure: Pure and white and grim, and cold and even more dangerous. Not the wild rage of a hurricane, but the silent cold fury of a blizzard.
“You are the Weapon Christine Sama. You are the arrow that will pierce the heart of your enemy!” Sensei Nakamura had said to her, not long ago. Finally, Chris understood fully what her old Teacher had meant: Her Swords were a part of her body. They were additional limbs.
Her Concentration had almost reached a level where all that existed was her and her Enemy. She heard with unnatural awareness, her sharp eyes where those of an eagle spotting a moving rattle snake deep down in the sand.
Since early childhood she had trained kenjitsu, honed her skills under the direction of her Sensei. Had trained every day since then. She was 34 Years old now but had trained since she was five years old. Her resolve was ironclad. She would not end Al Mansour quickly. She would use any weapon in her impressive arsenal to repay him for all the suffering he had caused. And no. She would not adhere to any code in the world. Not today. Not in this hour.
Her finest hour.
Long before she would cleave his head in two, she would give him plenty of opportunities to regret what he had done. She would make him suffer, suffer long. When she was through with him, he would beg her to end him. She strode forward, slowly, and deliberately, beginning the battle in her mind before he ever saw her. Her steps sounded almost unnaturally loud in her ears. The perfect Hearing of the great Musician she was.
Chris felt like in a tunnel now: All other sounds diminished into nothingness. At the end of that tunnel stood Al Mansour: Tall. Smiling. Arrogant.
The Blonde was all purpose, all determination. She gripped her two blades with an easy grace that belied her training. This was it. This was the time. Al Mansour would pay for all his misdeeds. Anna was dead. But Chris had sworn to avenge her friend and to end Al Mansour once and for all. She strode at the Man who considered him God King, who had caused so much pain.
“Al Mansour!” Her challenge rang like a silver trumpet through the vault “Do not think you escape me! Too often you have hidden behind other people, let them do your dirty work! Too often! Too long! The time for your proxies has passed, it is just you and I. Face me! Or skulk in the sewers where you belong! Stand and face me! Or was this little blast too much for you to handle?”
Hiram Al Mansour scrambled to his feet. Chris von der Marwitz was coming at him. Her Eyes, her face, her face promised death and ruin. The Angel of Death had come “My swords!” Al Mansour bellowed at his Adjutant. He smiled arrogantly at the Pianist “So you have finally come! I thought you wouldn´t make it!”
“I had to clear some obstacles” Chris smiled coldly “Some were less competent than others” Her smile got more ominously “The Commander of your Guard was good” She paused “He did his duty. He took the blame for you” Chris looked at her blades then back at her opponent “He was very good” she conceded.
A grim smile curled her lips “How good are you, Hiram?”
Her smile grew icy cold.
"I have cut a swath across the world, hunting you. While you cower in your hole. I am the predator, you are prey." She called out coldly, loud, and clear. Every word sharp and precise hitting like a whip.
“Are you” The blonde did pause again “Are you” she mocked him “A Coward?” Chris registered that her foe was fuming with rage. That was good “You know” she said almost conversationally “If I think about the people you send against me?” Chris paused “They did not hesitate, they put their lives on the line for you.” The Pianist waited “While you hide away, in your hole.”
Chris Smile grew stone cold “Are you a Coward? Little King?”
Al Mansour´s Adjutant interrupted them “Your Swords oh Son of Horus!” He bowed deeply. Al Mansour took the two blades. Two Khopesh´s as Chris noticed. The blonde smiled coldly “Are you any good with those?” She nodded at the two swords “I doubt that”.
Her absolute disdain was palpable. The Egyptian wanted to mock his opponent, hurt her but he couldn´t. For the briefest of Moments, he felt doubt. There was nobody he could order to step in line for him. This was between him and von der Marwitz.
Death had come and he would not leave. That he sensed. But it would be the death of the blonde pianist. He did not really fear her. His destiny was to rule the earth. This surety filled his core. Von der Marwitz was a Nuisance. Nothing more. Insignificant.
Chris´ friends had followed the exchange with rapt attention “What is she doing?” Evie whispered nervously “Distracting the bastard” Kirsty stated calmly “But what if …” the Egyptologist whispered back “Do your job” Sarah McKenzie interrupted her calmly “Chris distracts him. For you”
Evie looked at Chris and Al Mansour and back at her friends. She pulled herself together “Right, let us go then!”
In the meantime, Pharaoh´s guards had recovered from their surprise ready to face the onslaught of the most unlikely group of fighters this Place had ever seen. Chris´ friends fanned out, ducking from cover to cover as the Egyptians opened fire. Precisely and accurate.
One short burst missed Hayley barely. But she felt no fear. She knew Kirsty was with her. Her own burst hit one Egyptian precisely in the breast. Three red dots appeared on his white tunic. He screamed and fell to the ground. She followed Kirsty.
Chris´ Team had split up. The Dark Lady planned to flank their Enemies. The Thief´s Orders had been clear: Kirsty would lead the left wing, Sarah the right one “Under no circumstances will you let Evie out your sight." she had commanded Sophie and Natasha “Of course Mistress” Natasha bowed mockingly – but the Thief knew the Russian well enough by now: She was an absolute Professional and this was her way to deal with Stress so the Thief just nodded “Just do your job” “I will” Natasha said sincerely. And Sarah had no doubt she would do.
Chris had sensed the moment of Al Mansour´s doubt. As brief as it was: Her opponent was not as sure as he wanted them to believe. This was all she needed. She strode at her enemy with long strides.
Al Mansour awaited her, his blades in his hands. Ready to fight. He was taller than Chris. Over seven feet. Might possess even more raw power, but his blades where only Weapons whereas Chris was the Weapon herself.
Her centuries old blades were Part of her body, Part of her Mind, Part of her Soul. An evil smile curled her slip. She did not bother to salute her opponent. This SOB was not worth it. A Wolf doesn't bow to the Sheep. No more. No less.
Chris did not have to think. She just acted as if some invisible force was guiding her. And maybe someone was guiding her. She felt it. She stormed at Al Mansour. She did not waste any time with formalities. She knew exactly what she would do. Her first strokes were lightening quick: A blizzard of hundred times folded hardened steel.
Al Mansour parried it. Just barely. And Chris sang, sang with joy, sang the song of battle. She unleashed the powerful Kiai, focusing her Chi into her voice, to chip at his soul, before her blade would pierce his soul. She sang a war cry, centuries old, with the clash of their blades keeping time. She sang and she struck.
Steel clashed against steel.
She was the Warrior Princess of the North. She was Odin´s Valkyrie. She was the High Priestess of Death. A hurricane of blows rained down on Al Mansour. Hard. Precise and incredible quick. Whenever the Egyptian thought he could launch an attack himself another quick combination of strokes forced him back. He hit with all his Power. But the Blonde deflected any of his strokes effortlessly. She said nothing, she just smiled – and did not even sweat.
Death had come.
Chris stepped swiftly aside with the Grace of the trained Dancer. Al Mansours powerful stroke hit empty air. His Khopesh´s hit the polished marble plate. Sparks soared through the air. The Pianist charged again. Al Mansour parried. Moved back. Another attack. Relentlessly, effortlessly. Chris kept the doors to her dark side firmly closed with good reason. But not now. But not today.
She felt a stream of energy cursing through her veins. It was as if she could foresee the future, knew what would happen. So far, no blood had been spilled. But not by accident. Chris waited for the right moment. She wanted her opponent to suffer. And he would suffer.
Left hand stroke, right hand stroke. Right backhand stroke. Left overhead stroke. Sparks flew as the blades collided.
The Egyptian felt the immense power behind the strokes. And Chris sang and she rejoiced. The surprise in his eyes was a pure aphrodisiac to her. Her left blade cut into the Egyptians left shoulder, cut deep. Chris´ Katana opened a deep cut. The first and surely not the last. The Blonde forced her Opponent through the hall. Away from the Podium where the Sun-Ray-of- Amon-Ra stood. Giving him no time to think. Giving her friends time to act.
He did not want to, but Al Mansour had to give ground. He could not believe it: The blonde had forced him several metres back: Away from the Sun Ray of Amon Ra. The Pianist did not heed the bullets screeching around them, as if her fury was so fierce, it prevented any outside force from interrupting their conflict. Al Mansour had opened a Door. A Door to Chris´s dark side. And Chris did not care. She smiled grimly “Your fault”.
She was totally oblivious to the bullets screeching around them, ricocheting from the polished black marble walls, but evaded them easily. She engulfed herself in a bubble of gleaming, shimmering steel.
And she sang. A song of death and ruin on her lips. And Hiram Al Mansour felt something. An emotion he had thought to have vanished. Nothing he tried worked, no strike landed, no feint distracted. In that moment, he knew the futility of King Canute. In this moment, Hiram Al Mansour felt fear. Simple pure primordial fear. A powerful and precise backhand stroke hit is body, drew a red and precise line. From his left hip to his right shoulder.
And Al Mansour looked up, looked up into the Face of Death. It was a beautiful Face: The beautiful serene deathly features of Chris von der Marwitz. And he saw no emotion there: Only a promise. The Promise of Death.
The blonde charged again. Her green eyes blazing. Her two Katanas glistening. Blood dropping to the floor: His blood …. the blood of a God – he paused: Gods should not blead …
The Katanas and the Khopesh´s collided …
In the Meantime:
Kirsty took cover behind a column and the fire burst did hit limestone instead of its intended target. She looked to the left and allowed herself for a second to watch the Duel of Chris and Al Mansour. Kirsty had seen Chris fighting and training often by know but this was different. If possible, her skill had grown since she had seen her fighting the first time – one year ago.
The Briton had been concerned since Chris´ return to the living after Anna´s death. The blonde had seemed off balance. Not the well-oiled fighting machine she normally was. But since they had arrived at the Medjai´s stronghold something had changed – obviously the Pianist had managed to channel her grief and her rage. The Briton had seen her today, leading the charge, fighting – the blonde had been a force of nature. But never lost control, never lost her target out of her sights. She had stayed focused.
On the other side her eyes met Sarah´s: They had made no significant progress since they had launched their two-pronged attack. Their enemies used their positions well. So far it had been impossible to break through the defence. “Stalemate” Kirsty thought.
Something happened:
Natasha Bolkonskaya had enough. She wouldn´t hide behind this column any second longer. From her combat gear she removed two grenades: one hand grenade and one flash bang grenade “What are you doing?” Sophie whispered, “Having fun” the Russian whispered back “But Sarah said ….”
“Cut it Sophie!” Bolkonskaya hissed “I know what Sarah said and I know what I am doing!” She pulled the security pin of the flash bang grenade, took aim, and threw it at their enemies. Her aim was true. The detonation shook the chamber. The Russian pulled the safety pin of the hand grenade and lobbed it at the enemy. It detonated with a blinding flash. Screams told them the dark-haired woman had hit the mark.
“We will have words later!” Sarah McKenzie hissed, but the Russian ignored her, jumped to her feet, and stormed at their enemy’s position, firing short and precise bursts. The Thief supressed a Curse and followed Natasha “After her!” she commanded, joining the charge. On the other side of the Hall Kirsty reacted swiftly to the changed tactical situation – and charged too, followed by Hayley, Birte, Kate and Shahada.
The Duel:
Neither Chris nor Al Mansour heeded the Mayhem around them. Both had thrown themselves to the ground as the Grenades detonated. But both fighters were up on their feet at soon as the dust had settled. The blonde was quicker on her feet and charged again. Al Mansour was still scrambling to his feet as von der Marwitz attacked again.
Her left-handed backhand stroke hit Al Mansours left blade right above the hilt and her opponent almost lost his grip. Her right overhand stroke forced the God King to parry. The Egyptian stumbled backwards, almost losing his footing. His wounds obviously distracted and irritated her opponent.
Al Mansour had no Idea. This was only the beginning. The bastard was in for a though ride. Even if he had not realized it yet. Chris smiled at her adversary and charged with a combination of backhand and overhead strikes. Swiftly, hard, precise.
The pure force of her attack forced her Opponent back. With the Song of Battle on her lips she pressed the attack. The tip of her right blade left a bloody trace of Al Mansours right cheek. Shaped like a half-moon “You can compare notes now with Anck-Sun-Amun” Chris hurled at him.
Al Mansour´s eyes flashed like burning coals! “I will disembowel you and dance on your grave!” The Pianist just smiled. Her answer was another attack which forced the Egyptian another step back. And for the first time Chris sensed something “Fear” – which was just what she needed. That feeling? To Chris it was like a drug, a potent aphrodisiac.
With a battle cry the blonde sprinted at the Egyptian. A sharp precise jab with her left blade. The Steel buried itself deep in the perfectly sculpted biceps of Al Mansours left arm. Chris pulled her blade back. Blood spilled out of the deep wound, it had to hurt like hell.
By now the Pianist had forced her opponent so far back that he stood with his back to the wall. Blows rained down on the Egyptian. Hard, precise, relentless. He could only parry now. Chris had her nemesis where she wanted him to be. She was the weapon, she was the blade, she was the arrow – which would pierce her enemy’s black heart.
Her right blade hit the black granite right above Al Mansour´s head. Sparks flew. Her left blade smashed against the corresponding Khopesh of the God King. The two blades clashed together. Chris felt the power of the impact surging through her arm right into her shoulder. But she felt no pain. With a screeching sound her enemies blade broke above the hilt. The broken blade clattered to the floor. Al Mansour´s eyes widened in shock.
Chris step back and watched as the imagined God King grabbed his remaining blade with both hands. The wound in his left biceps must hurt – and impede him. But the blonde was not yet ready to end him. That would be an act of mercy. And she felt anything but merciful right now. She smiled at him. Cold and hard. Her right-handed overhand stroke forced him to shield his head with his blade. One opportunity Chris did not let pass unused.
Like an attacking snake her left blade bit into the Egyptians muscular thigh. Cut through skin, through flesh like butter and left another gaping wound. Al Mansour´s left leg quivered; blood gushed from the deep wound. Obviously, her Jab had pierced an artery,
“You don´t give up already?” Chris taunted him. Al Mansour smiled, but it was a forced smile “I cannot tell you how much I enjoyed the pictures of you after Romanova´s death: So, broken, so forlorn!”
Chris smile was as cold as the North Pole “Not you cleverest Idea, killing Anna. In some ways you did me a favour: You and your High Priestess helped me to realize finally what I am and who I am”.
Her left-handed backhand stroke came out of nowhere. Both blades connected. Chris rammed her right blade through Al Mansours perfectly sculpted abdomen above his right hip. The Katana cut cleanly through, and its tip hit the Granite Wall behind Al Mansour. Chris pulled her blade back and stepped back. The Wound was not deadly the blonde knew, but it must hurt like hell. The Pianist stepped back and smiled that cold infuriating smile again “Come” she said simply.
And Al Mansour charged. He felt no pain. Thanks to the Adrenalin and a Concoction his Personal Physician had prescribed him. He felt rage. He saw red. With a guttural growl he charged. But his mobility was already impeded, and Chris evaded him with the Grace of a Ballerina.
Christine von der Marwitz danced, she danced, she sung, and she laughed. Easily she sidestepped another attack. The blood loss would get to her enemy soon. That he must be on drugs somehow was clear to her. Another wild stroke: Effortless Chris avoided the brutal overhand stroke.
The next attack she parried easily, and her left blade left a deep cut across his muscular chest. She danced on the balls of her feet like a boxer. He had not suffered enough. Not yet. Not yet. Her Foe bled from several deep wounds and cuts. A grim cruel smile curled her lips.
She knew exactly what she would do next. The power of her strokes forced Al Mansour to hold the Khopesh with both hands. She knew every blow, every stroke he parried must hurt him – and weaken him. She could have ended this fight long ago.
But Anna´s Soul demanded more she felt. Chris intended to offer Anna´s Soul every ounce of Al Mansour´s blood on the Altar. Chris was the High Priestess of Death after all. A quick combination of both Katana´s forced the so-called God King to raise his remaining blade with both hands.
She saw the pain on the Egyptian´s face as her right blade connected with his. The left Katana though …. cut through flesh, through bone – and severed Al Mansours left hand. He lost grip and his blade clattered to the floor. His eyes widened in shook he starred at the bloody stump of his left hand. Only realizing slowly what had happened.
The jab of Chris´ right blade hit his right thigh. The tip of sword hit bone. Chris stepped back. With clinical interest she watched as Al Mansour sank slowly on his knees. He pressed his arm stump under his right arm pit. The blonde towered above him. Blood dripped from the tips of her blades. Chris waited, took the moment in.
Almost unnatural calm filled her.
“You cannot beat me!” The Egyptian pressed through clenched teeth “I am a King! I am a living God!” And Chris laughed, laughed cold and hard “Newsflash Old Boy I have beaten you fair and square” Her left-handed backhand stroke came out of the blue. Cleanly and precise the incredibly sharp blade cut across her Opponents muscular abdomen, leaving a precise thin red line …
With an elegant fluid and swift motion, she put her left Katana back into its scabbard. Chris watched coolly and detached as realization dawned on Al Mansour´s face: The Pianist had gutted him – like a fish.
He tried to press his intestines back with his remaining right hand. Chris waited “End this” Al Mansour demanded, his face a mask of agony and pain “Why should I?” The blonde shrugged. She felt nothing. Coolly she watched “You murdered Nabiah. You murdered Anna to hurt me” Something strange happened: Al Mansour laughed. It was the laugh of a Maniac “Yes, your precious Anna. That Russian Whore”
Now it was Chris who laughed “You are so predictable, I won´t kill you in rage so you get a quick exit” Al Mansour´s pain and agony were a soothing balm for her wounded soul “Christine Sama, you are a Samurai!” she heard the Voice of her Sensei. It broke the spell “Hai!” the blonde replied curtly.
Chris gripped the Katana Sensei Nakamura had presented her with so long ago firmly with two hands. The tip of the blade touched the floor. She intended not to do the Egyptian the honour of ending this fight the way the Code of Honour she followed demanded of her.
Chris swung her Sword high above her head. This time the blade did not weaver a millimetre. Time stood still, frozen to ice. “Kiaiiii!” her war cry cut through the Air. The Katana cut with a sharp hiss down like a flash of light. It cleaved the Egyptians head cleanly in two.
Never in her life Chris would forget the look of his stone-cold obsidian black eyes and his last words before the blade hit him:
“Death is only the beginning”.
It had sounded like a Prophecy.
A Prophecy handed down by the Gods of the Underworld.