Chapter 17 

“No,” Krista panted, only a few feet away, when she watched the Roman’s sword cut open Lazarus’s chest.

Her feet stumbled for a second, her mind forgetting what to do as pure fear engulfed her body.

The tips of her fingers went numb as she gripped her sword, a cold shiver running through her body as she watched Lazarus fall backwards.

He let out a heart-wrenching scream of pain as his blade fell from his fingers, his body collapsing into the dirt beneath him.

Krista couldn’t look away as she watched him collapse into the mud, her heart palpitating in her chest when she caught movement out of the corner of her eye.

Looking back towards the Roman, Krista saw that he had been joined by two others, hoping to join him for the kill.

Krista looked back at Lazarus on the ground but he wasn’t moving.

Turning back to the trio of Romans, she saw that the man in the middle, taller than the other two, had lifted his sword, intent on stabbing her son.

“No.” Krista whispered as she turned to her side slightly and flipped her sword in the palm of her hand until she was holding the blade.

Raising her arm, Krista chucked the sword through the air.

She was moving before the sword had imbedded itself in the Roman’s chest.

Her body was humming with adrenaline and new found energy as she fought to protect her son.

Landing a firm punch into the first man’s jaw, Krista kicked his leg out from beneath him simultaneously causing him to collapse to the ground.

Turning, Krista saw that the taller Roman had remained standing, blooding dripping from between his lips as he stared at her sword in his chest with confusion.

Wrapping her fingers around the hilt of her sword, still imbedded in the man’s chest, Krista kicked at the third Roman who had begun to advance.

Hearing the soldier behind her begin to get to his feet, Krista leaned on the sword in the Roman’s chest and used it to push herself off the ground.

Keeping her legs firmly planted together, Krista twisted her body and planted her boots squarely in the third soldier’s chest causing him to topple backwards.

Landing back on the ground, Krista spotted the soldier she had kicked in the knee running towards her with his sword jutting out to the front of him.

Yanking on her sword, Krista forced the Roman soldier to the side until he was standing between her and his comrade.

Krista watched the tip of the man’s blade protrude through the front of his chest.

Not wasting another second, Krista planted her boot against the dead Roman’s chest and pushed him back into his comrade, whilst she pulled her sword free from his body.

Quickly spinning on her heels, Krista deflected a strike at her back before she sunk her blade into the soft flesh of the Roman’s neck.

His warm blood squirted out onto her flesh but it no longer fazed her as she turned and easily dispatched with the last remaining soldier with her sword to his abdomen.

Lost in the killing, her heart racing in her chest, Krista realised that she could not hear Lazarus.

“Lazarus!?” Krista dropped her sword and jumped into the small ditch, her hands reaching for him instinctively.

Krista’s eyes widened as she saw the wound across his chest, the flesh torn open as blood dripped down his torso and tainted the fabric that covered his upper body.

“Lazarus!” Krista fell to her knees by his side and cradled his face, his skin was slick to her touch and his eyes were shut.

Grasping furiously at his skin, Krista kept calling his name as she moved his head into her lap and that is when she spotted the stone that rested beneath him, a small amount of blood covering its surface.

“Lazarus, Lazarus, Lazarus,” Krista spoke his name over and over like a mantra.

She could not think of anything else to say as she stared at his face, unable to help but remember when he had first been born.

His skin covered in blood, she remembered how she had felt when she held him for the first time.

Her eyes started to sting as the thought that this could be the last time she held him in her arms started to seep through.

“No,” Krista gripped him tighter, refusing to let him go.

“Lazarus!” Krista shouted his name like a child that had done something wrong. She forbade him to die.

It felt like she had been knelt there for eternity when he began to move. It was only a soft jerk of the shoulders but it was there.

Krista held her breath, hoping, when it happened again.

“Lazarus?” Krista whispered, swallowing around the lump in her throat when he suddenly leant forward and his chest was racked with coughs.

A deep breath of relief left her lips.

Krista leaned her forehead against his briefly, her eyes shutting in relief as she felt his breath on her cheek.

Holding him tighter against her body, Krista never wanted to let him go again when he let out a small moan, his face contorting in pain.

Krista leaned back and grasped his face, her eyes darting to look at the wound across his flesh.

Starting just to the side of where his arm met his shoulder, it ran horizontally across his chest. It was a few inches wide but it was only a shallow cut.

Lazarus lifted his arm and pressed a hand against the back of his head. When he removed it, Krista spotted the blood that covered his palm.

Lazarus looked up at her, “Mother?”

Krista took an unsteady breath, “What were you thinking?”

Lazarus frowned.

“I told you to stay in Greece. What are you doing here!?” Krista searched his eyes for an answer but she found that, at that moment, she did not care.

She only cared that he was breathing.

“No,” Lazarus groaned as he sat up, shuffling back until he was leaning against the wall of the ditch, “You drugged me. I never agreed to stay in Greece.”

Krista took an uneasy breath as she sat back and felt the energy leave her body, “It’s not safe for you here. I was trying to protect you.”

“It’s not safe for me anywhere,” Lazarus told her, his eyes so much like his fathers, “My parents are the slaves who led a revolt against the empire. Anywhere I go, I will be in danger.”

Krista looked at her hands and the blood that covered her skin as silence fell over them. Krista knew he was right but she would never admit that.

“Whilst there is breath left in my body,” Krista vowed, “I will always do what I can to protect you.”

Lazarus felt the corner of his mouth tilt up in a smile, “And I will always do what I can to get into trouble.”

Krista narrowed her eyes for a moment before she returned the smile, “Just like your father.”

Lazarus shook his head, “Just like my mother.”

Krista let out a small laugh at that but it was quickly lost when Lazarus asked his next question.

“Why did you lie to me about where I was born?”

Krista’s eyes darted up to look at him, her thoughts running wild.

After a moment she spoke, “We need to get out of here.”

Turning around and peering over the ditch, Krista looked past the three dead Roman soldiers and saw that the bottom of the hill was slowly becoming consumed with infantry men as they scoured the battlefield for survivors.

Dropping back inside for cover, Krista tried to calculate how long they had before they were discovered. She did not wish to think about what would happen afterwards if they were found.

“Do not change the topic,” Lazarus sighed, “I found someone who was there with you. He told me that-”

“-Who?” Krista snapped, her eyes wide with suspicion, “Where did you find him?”

“That –That doesn’t matter. Why did you lie to me? Why tell me I was born at home when I was born in war!?” Lazarus growled, his brows furrowing together in confusion.

Krista sighed in frustration, “I am not doing this now.”

“Then when?” Lazarus crawled forward, “I am no longer an infant, mother. You cannot keep hiding me from the truth.”

“You want the truth?” Krista sneered as she turned to face her son, pointing over her shoulder, “The truth is that we are surrounded by Roman soldiers.”

Lazarus looked behind him at the fort more than a few hundred metres away. They would never make it.

“So, right now,” Krista collected her sword from the ground, “The story about where you were born is not my concern, keeping you alive is.”

Lazarus said nothing because he knew she was right, “What are we going to do?” Lazarus looked around for his blade. He found it thrown to the side from where he fell and hit his head.

Grabbing it eagerly, Lazarus held it tight in his palm.

Crouching on the ground, Krista looked around her for inspiration, her thoughts running wild with ideas but none of them seemed feasible until she saw it, the wisp of red fabric blowing in the soft wind behind her.

Krista looked back at her son and the sword clasped firmly in his grip.

“You aren’t going to need that,” Krista shook her head as an idea sprang to life in her mind.

Krista smiled, “How do you feel about uniforms?”

Lazarus frowned, clearly confused.

* * *

“Open the gates!” Artorius shouted as he jumped the last few steps from the wall and raced towards the exit, sword in hand.

“Open them! Now!” He screamed when the guards on duty stayed where they were, their eyes wide with fear as he charged at them.

“They do not take orders from you, Greek,” Argyle suddenly appeared from the corner.

Artorius took offence, “My family is out there, Gaul!” He stepped up to Argyle, peering into his eyes for any sign of empathy but he saw none, only a hardened glare, “Open the gates. We have to get them inside before the Roman’s find them.”

“I will not open those gates and risk my men.” Argyle stood his ground.

Artorius gripped his sword tightly, his knuckles growing white, as he spoke softly, afraid of what he might do, “Open the gates.”

“Argyle,” Cato rushed over to Artorius’s side, “We cannot leave them out there. You cannot leave them.”

“I am grateful for your aid, Cato,” Argyle’s green eyes flared with controlled anger, “But when I require your assistance I shall ask for it.”

Cato took a slow step back, away from Argyle and towards Leonidas who had gathered by the gate.

Artorius watched his friends step back before he turned and looked up to the wall where Frieda and Marcia waited.

“Here,” Frieda wrenched a bow from one of Argyle’s men stood beside her and handed it to Marcia, a quiver of arrows resting on the ground between them. The man stepped forward, about to argue when Frieda looked at him and he stepped back.

Artorius looked over his shoulder at Diomed who stood behind him, sword in hand.

Diomed gave Artorius a small nod.

Artorius turned back to Argyle, his body humming with rage.

Argyle tilted his head, his brows furrowing in the middle as he sensed something was afoot.

“You should have opened the gates.” Artorius told him quietly when Leonidas and Cato, who had slowly been moving towards the exit, jumped the guards on duty.

“Shoot!” Frieda ordered Marcia as she armed her bow and began to hail arrows down on the Romans who grew too close to Krista and Lazarus.

“What is this!? Stop!” Argyle shouted, looking at Leonidas and Cato with betrayal, but Artorius and Diomed were already running.

Tapping Leonidas on the shoulder as he passed, Artorius felt a rush of adrenaline as he slipped through the gates and headed for the ditch, Diomed following close behind.