Chapter 25

The night was still and calm as Dareios was relieved from his watch.

The torches along their walls burned in the night sky as they stared out towards the enemy camp, lit up by hundreds of campfires flickering in the distance until, eventually, the fires merged into one gigantic bonfire.

It made his skin shiver to think of all the men crowding around the warmth. It made him think of the last time he had seen a roman army and what it had meant for his friends who no longer walked this earth.

Turning from the sight of what would inevitably be on their doorstep, Dareios headed down the steps and into the courtyard, looking for some food to calm his stomach.

The courtyard was empty, the mud slugging beneath his boots, as he crossed the opened space when he heard something fall towards the far corner.

Lifting his head, his hunger forgotten, Dareios grasped the sword at his waist as he took a step forward.

After a few more steps, his eyes adjusted enough to see a door swinging open in the soft wind.

His heartbeat quickened as a figure appeared from the closet, his arms ladened down with junk.

"Who goes there?" Dareios shouted, drawing his sword, and the figure poised.

Covered in shadow, Dareios could see the person lift their head and regard him curiously. They were deciding what to do next when they spoke and Dareios paused.

"Dareios, stop, it's me. Lazarus!" The voice spoke in a loud whisper as they carefully shut the door and stepped towards him.

Dareios's hand remained on his sword until Lazarus stepped beneath a flickering torch and the flames lit up his face.

Dareios let out a slow breath of relief, sheathing his sword as he did so.

"Lazarus?" He stepped forward, "What are you doing?" Dareios's voice trailed off when he saw what Lazarus was carrying.

It was the uniform of a roman infantryman, the same uniform which Lazarus and his mother had been wearing when they smuggled themselves back into the stronghold.

Lazarus saw where he was looking and his body stilled.

As Dareios looked into Lazarus's eyes, the eyes of his father, he could almost see his youthfulness being stolen and replaced with the burden of being a man.

The boy that had asked Dareios about his mother was gone.

Lazarus said only one sentence and Dareios did not need to hear anymore.

His voice was controlled as he said it, "I need to get her out of there."

* * *

The candles were burning low as their arguments continued and they were still no closer to formulating a plan.

"What about a diversion?" Frieda asked, throwing out any idea that would save her daughter.

"That's how Marcia was captured," Frieda sent Cato a warning look, "Octavia didn't fall for our last diversion, she wouldn't fall for another." Cato quickly added.

"An all-out attack then," Diomed paced the far wall, unable to remain still.

"No," Argyle shook his head, "I cannot permit my men to be-"

Diomed spun in fury to face him, "They have my daughter!"

Argyle did not lower his gaze instead he looked towards Leonidas, the air tense between them.

Leonidas stood with Diomed.

"I am sorry," Argyle turned back to Diomed, "But I will not risk my men. Your daughter is not in immediate danger."

"Not in immediate danger?" Frieda scoffed, "She's with the Romans!"

"He's right," Gallus stepped forward, a smirk coming to Leonidas's lips as he saw the bruise covering his left eye.

Cato shared a look with Leonidas, he wanted to disapprove but he was happy because it showed that Leonidas cared for him. Cato already knew that but it was something else entirely to see it.

Krista looked between Gallus and Frieda. He had better tread carefully or else he would find something else imbedded in his eye; a dagger.

"If they wanted to kill her, they would have done it on the battlefield. They want her for something so she's better to them alive."

"You do not know the Romans," Diomed shook his head.

"And you do?" Gallus frowned.

Everybody looked at each other as Diomed's past was brought to the surface. Diomed easily worked his way around the subject, "They may have taken her just to draw us in, and they do not need her alive for that!"

"In which case," Argyle negotiated, "If we deploy all the men we will be walking into her trap."

Krista hated to admit it but he was right.

"We work on the assumption she is alive," Krista stated, "They have no reason yet to kill her. We need to know the layout of the camp. Leonidas?"

Leonidas lifted his head, "Lazarus had all that information."

As her son's name was mentioned, everybody looked around them.

Artorius turned in a circle, "Where is Lazarus?"

He argued his way into every one of their meetings; it was unlike him not to be here for such a vital one as this, especially as it concerned Marcia.

Krista cut through the crowd and burst out through the door, a bad feeling settling in her stomach.

The air smelt of morning dew and sunlight was beginning to creep over the horizon. They had been talking all night.

Men and women had begun to start their day, cooking the breakfast for the masses, as Krista and the others searched the courtyard.

Krista found herself stood before Dareios, his eyes looking at her as if they held a secret.

"Dareios," Krista frowned, "What is it?"

He bit his lower lip, the scar along his jaw stretching as he did so.

Krista shifted her weight onto her other foot, "Dareios, where is Lazarus?"

Dareios closed his eyes briefly, "He left last night to rescue Marcia."

Frieda smiled to herself.

"How?" Artorius snapped, "He wouldn't get within ten feet of the camp!"

Dareios turned and pointed towards the storage cupboard in the corner.

Krista closed her eyes before a small bubble of mirth broke through her lips.

Artorius stared at her strangely.

"The Roman uniforms. We kept them in that closet." Krista explained, shaking her head slightly.

Dareios nodded his head, "He's going to walk into the camp as a Roman soldier. Your son takes after his parents."

Krista and Artorius looked at each other before turning to face Frieda and Diomed.

"Are you not going to go after him?" Cato whispered, looking at Krista with confusion.

"We can't," Artorius shook his head, "If we did, Octavia would know something is wrong and we'll put him in further danger."

"We have to leave him," Krista whispered, her heart and mind in turmoil over what she should do but she knew Artorius was right.

They would only put him in further danger.

"So, what do we do?" Frieda whispered.

Krista looked towards the main gate, "We wait."

* * *

Dawn approached rapidly and Lazarus had only made it halfway across the distance.

With sunlight illuminating everything that moved on the battlefield, he could go no further.

Finding a thick brambles of bushes, Lazarus hunkered down for the day. Leaning against a thick trunk, Lazarus kept his sword clasped his chest as he tried to get some rest.

Moving as little as possible, Lazarus looked over his shoulder at the way he had come and, through a gap in the trees, he saw the fort in the distance.

His parents would know by now that he had left, he hoped Dareios did not get into too much trouble for letting him go.

They would worry about him but Lazarus needed to do this, he knew in his bones that this was right.

He could not leave Marcia to the Romans.

By mid-day no rescue party had come from the fort and Lazarus sent a small message of gratitude to his parents for letting him be.

He knew it would be tough for them but they were doing it, they were allowing him to be who he was; a warrior.

Falling asleep for a few hours, Lazarus awoke as the sun began to set for the next day.

Eating a small roll of bread that he had stolen from the kitchen, Lazarus stretched out his limbs and prepared to move on.

He was closer to the Roman camp than the fort; he would be upon them within the hour.

Lazarus stared out at the Roman camp as torches began to be lit for the night, his eyes taking in the borders as his mind remembered the way he and Leonidas had taken the other day.

Once inside the real trouble began; he would need to find Marcia amongst hundreds of Romans.

As night settled more firmly, blanketing the country in darkness, Lazarus slipped out from his hideaway and carried on.