Chapter 29

The sound of the raging fire and the screams seemed almost an entire world away as Lazarus led them through the maze of tents and campfires which had been allowed to burn low.

Lazarus made sure that Marcia was still walking beside him, lengths of her blonde hair running down her back.

Reassured that she was still there Lazarus looked back at their guests.

The two sisters were holding onto each other, their heads touching, as they progressed through the camp leaving only the two men that brought up the rear of their company.

Two of the other prisoners, a man and a woman, had broken off from their group as soon as they were free. They thanked Lazarus for his help but were confident to chance it by themselves and, truthfully, Lazarus did not care. It was less people for him to worry about.

"Stay close," Lazarus told them.

The man on the left nodded and jogged forward a few steps when he heard Lazarus's comment. He looked older than his years with red hair and thin arms.

The man on the right was the opposite with dark hair and a chiselled physique. His clothes had been stripped so he stood only in a loincloth and the mud had dried on his skin, defining his muscles.

He was constantly rubbing his wrists where the shackles had been.

Lazarus could not wait to be rid of them. Looking to the sky he noted the position of the moon and knew that they were already behind schedule.

Octavia would soon get the fire under control and the soldiers would return to their posts.

Lazarus let his eyes travel back over Marcia, her eyes straight ahead as if she was afraid to look at him.

Sighing, Lazarus led them through a few more tight turns before they came parallel with the fence; a three metre gap of grass, between the fence and the nearest tent, ran around the entire perimeter of the camp.

The red-headed man stared at the obstacle with fear, "How do we get to the other side?"

Lazarus answered by leading them along the wall, within a few minutes the gate loomed into view up ahead and they all broke into a small jog of excitement.

Marcia slowed to a stop beside him when she saw it, "Lazarus?"

"I see it," Lazarus held out his arms to the side to bring everybody behind them to a stop.

"What is it?" One of the sisters asked, craning her neck to see over Lazarus's shoulder.

"Romans," Lazarus answered automatically as his eyes scanned the area around them, they were in wide open space.

It only took one of the soldiers to look to his right and he would see them.

"What do we do?" Another asked but before either Lazarus or Marcia could answer the guard spotted them.

He stepped forward, spear in hand, to address them.

Dressed in Roman uniforms, Marcia and Lazarus began to slowly march towards him and the gate.

"Get into a line behind us and do not move," Lazarus snapped under his breath at the others, hearing them scuffle into place.

Marcia looked at him from the corner of her eye as they shared the same thought. If the guard looked at their 'prisoners' wrists and saw that they were unchained then he would realise something was not as it should be.

Lazarus just needed to get close enough.

"Two guards," Marcia informed Lazarus.

Lazarus gave a small nod to say that he had heard her when they grew within ear-shot of the guard.

"Halt!" He held up his spear and they stopped, "What is your business here?"

Lazarus told Marcia to stay there with the prisoners as he took a few steps forward and greeted the soldier, "We've been ordered to move this prisoners away from the fire; The Commander's orders."

Lazarus hoped the mention of Octavia would stop any further investigation into their actions.

The guard narrowed his eyes at Lazarus, taking a step forward to peer back at the prisoners. His eyes fell upon the girl at the front.

"Is that the girl from the rebellion?" The man asked, intrigued, "The Briton?"

Lazarus nodded, "Yes, it's best to stay away from her. She can be quite temperamental."

Marcia glared at him.

The guard took another step forward, passing Lazarus, "She doesn't look like much. Are you sure only two guards are enough?"

"Oh, I'm sure," Lazarus stared at the back of his neck, his fingers reaching for the sword at his hip.

"Hey Otho!" The guard suddenly turned and called to his friend. Lazarus dropped his hand, "Come here!"

Lazarus watched the other guard trudge towards them, his spear positioned horizontally by his side.

Otho looked at Lazarus before he turned to his comrade, "Yes?"

"You remember the savage I was telling you about? The Briton?"

Otho did not show any recollection on his face.

Lazarus looked towards Marcia worryingly as he heard the conversation unfold.

"You know, the girl the Commander had us capture the other day. The one she's been busy torturing for the last couple of days."

"Yes, what of her?" Otho snapped, growing tired of his friend's eagerness.

"Well, that's her," he pointed towards the girl at the front of the group.

Otho frowned as he took a step forward and narrowed his eyes at the girl.

A tense moment passed when Otho grew close enough to know that it wasn't Marcia. He may never have seen Marcia in real life but the girl he was looking at was no warrior.

"This isn't the Briton," Otho frowned as he gazed upon the Roman brand on her upper arm.

"Of course it is," His friend laughed at him with Lazarus.

Otho reached forward and grasped her wrist, the girl shouting in pain, "Why aren't these people in chains?"

"What?" The guard stepped forward to see if he was right and once he did he realised his mistake.

Turning back to confront Lazarus, he raised his spear in warning. But Lazarus had already unsheathed his sword and sunk it into his stomach.

He collapsed against Lazarus's chest, looking up at him in shock, searching for answers.

"I hate bad manners," Lazarus explained as he removed his sword and let his body drop to the ground.

Looking back towards Marcia he saw that Otho had put up more of a fight than his friend and Marcia had gained a cut to her arm.

He took an unconscious step forward as Marcia kicked the sword out of Otho's hand and pushed the tip of her blade through the exposed flesh of his neck.

Blood squirted across Marcia's face and chest as she removed her blade and let him sink to his knees with satisfaction.

Marcia was breathing hard as she watched Otho's blood gush down his front, his mind still conscious enough to see it happening before he passed out.

Lazarus took another step towards Marcia when he spotted movement from the corner of his eye and a sudden force barrelled into his side.

Knocking him to the ground, Lazarus turned to see what it was when he found the body of the half-naked man led over him.

Lazarus opened his lips to speak when the sister's screamed behind them. When he looked Lazarus saw that an arrow had imbedded itself in the chest of the red-headed man.

Before anybody could speak another arrow cut through the air and landed a few inches from Lazarus's head.

Lazarus stared at the arrow in shock before he turned to the man still laying over him.

"We need to get out of here." He advised Lazarus.

Lazarus nodded, "Everybody against the fence!"

Marcia grabbed Petra who was holding on tightly to her sister, Philyra, and pushed them back against the fence.

Lazarus and his half-naked saviour barged into the fence beside Marcia, "Do we know where it's coming from?"

Marcia nodded solemnly and pointed to just above the gate where an archer had been placed.

Lazarus arched an eyebrow as another arrow was fired and ricocheted off the post by Lazarus's head.

"He's good," The man muttered, "We'd all be dead before we made it to the gate."

"You're right," Lazarus spoke to the man but he was looking at Marcia, "But I know somebody better."

"Who?" The man implored him to speak of them.

Marcia removed the helmet from her head and stared at Lazarus, her eyes almost pleading with him not to ask her.

"Can you do it?" Lazarus asked.

Marcia peered out carefully and stared at the distance between them. An arrow answered her.

Marcia ducked back into safety and looked at Lazarus, begging him to ask somebody else.

"I would do it," Lazarus reassured her, telling her what she needed to hear, "But we both know you're better than me."

Marcia sighed as she sheathed her sword.

"What are you going to do?" Petra asked, staring at them in confusion.

Lazarus handed her the dagger.

Marcia took it begrudgingly, "If I'm going to do this, I'm going to need a diversion."

Lazarus nodded and gave her a small smile, "I've got you covered."

Marcia took a deep breath as Lazarus lifted his sword and held it out. An arrow clanged off the blade almost instantly.

As the archer re-armed his bow, Lazarus ran forward and reached for Otho's dead body.

An arrow shot into the earth by Lazarus's foot.

Grunting, Lazarus lifted Otho's dead body. His nose scrunching up as he felt his fingers grow wet from his blood-soaked tunic.

Using Otho as a body shield, Lazarus advanced towards the gate. Three arrows shot into Otho's chest with a thunk.

"What is he doing?" Petra squealed.

Marcia took a deep breath and rotated her shoulder, loosening the muscles. She winced in pain when the skin stretched around the brand.

She prayed it would not affect her aim.

Looking out at Lazarus she saw that Otho's body now looked like the back of a porcupine. The archer was solely focused on Lazarus.

Marcia stepped out from the safety of the fence.

"What is she doing?" Petra asked the only man left but he simply shook his head. Surely the archer was too far away for her to hit him.

Marcia stood out in the open, every sense in her body heightened as she knew any minute now she may find an arrow planted in her chest.

Tapping her finger against the dagger, Marcia turned to the side and looked up at the archer.

He was now stood, leant forward over the gate as Lazarus grew closer and closer. Soon the archer would be able to hit him.

Closing her eyes, Marcia inhaled a deep breath and lined her body up for the shot.

In her mind she could hear the small echoing noise as the arrow was released, she could hear the shaft cutting through the air before it impaled against the dead body of Otho.

In that moment, Marcia began to feel more like herself as she opened her eyes and flipped the dagger in her hand, until she was holding the blade.

Releasing the breath, Marcia lifted her arm over her head and released the dagger, looking towards where she wanted it to go.

Her eyes were glued to the archer as Petra, Philyra and the man stepped out from the fence to watch the dagger's path.

Marcia's body was overcome with relief when the dagger hit its mark and the archer fell from the top of the gate, his body impacting with the ground.

Lazarus looked at the amount of arrows in Otho's body before he dropped him and stared at the archer instead.

Marcia and the others hurried over to join him.

"Good shot," Lazarus congratulated Marcia as he bent over and removed the dagger, handing it back to her as a gift.

Marcia smiled in gratitude.

"Just so we're clear though, I'm better at sword fighting than you." Lazarus joked.

Marcia rolled her eyes as she sheathed the dagger, an alarm sounding throughout the camp.

It bellowed like a siren, calling everybody and everything into action.

Lazarus and Marcia looked at each other, "I think that's our cue to leave."

Marcia nodded and they ran at the gate.

Lifting the plank of wood from its cradle in front of the gate, they pulled on the handle until the gap was big enough for them all to slip through.

Once the last person was through, Lazarus led them to the forest. Covered by the thick density of the forest, Lazarus felt like he could finally breathe but the horn still sounded in the camp.

The terrifying noise seemed to follow them but when Lazarus looked there was nobody there.

"Lazarus?" Marcia called. He turned back to see that the others were further ahead than he was.

Stealing one last look behind him, Lazarus raced to join them but he could not shake the feeling that in this moment, something had changed.

It felt as if the equilibrium that both sides had been sharing had now been tipped and there was no turning back.

It felt like the beginning of the end.