Chapter 52

Lazarus dropped to his knees and slid along the wet ground, mud mixing with sweat as it splattered across his body.

Tilting his head back as he did so, to avoid the edge of Hadrian's blade, he raised himself up onto a single knee when he heard the squelch of Hadrian's boots in the soft mud behind him.

Raising the sword over his head, Lazarus deflected another blow to the back of his neck and forced Hadrian back a few steps.

Getting to his feet, Lazarus turned and faced Hadrian once more. Hadrian's cheeks were warm from exertion, his body weighted down due to the armour he wore, refusing to remove it in battle.

Lazarus had just re-gripped his sword tighter and Marcia knew what was going through his mind right then.

It was not the feeling of the cold mud against his skin or that he may die in this field, surrounded by Romans. Rather it was the thought that the sword held in Hadrian's hand may have been the one to kill their uncles and his father.

Even if it had not been, Lazarus knew it was Hadrian that had given the order for Leonidas to be killed and that was enough for the pair of them.

Hadrian had just let out a small shout of frustration as he charged towards Lazarus when Marcia heard it.

Or rather, she felt it.

A large circle had formed around Lazarus and Hadrian within the walls of the Roman camp, creating a small arena-like scene and atmosphere.

Marcia was stood at the front of the circle, her fingers still clutching her bow but her arrows were safely stashed away in the quiver at her waist, when a crisp wind cut through the area and sent a chill down her spine.

As the same wind carried on and moved the trees a few hundred yards away causing a loud rustling to fill the air, Marcia's ears seemed to twitch when she thought she heard someone screaming.

It was a high pitched scream that was filled with terror.

Marcia glanced at the others but the faces of those around her remained fixated on the fight before them.

Lazarus's blade had caught nothing but the armour on Hadrian's back when Octavia's trusted second had spun and sliced open the skin on the side of Lazarus's thigh.

Marcia's heart sped up as she watched Lazarus's leg buckle beneath the sudden pain, but he recovered quickly and dived forward when Hadrian had lunged for a second attack.

Spinningup onto his feet, Lazarus appeared to be unfazed by the wound to his leg and continued with his attack.

Their swords clashed in mid-air, a sharp ring resonating outwards from the centre, when Marcia thought she heard it again but this time it wasn't a scream. It was her name.

Hesitating, Marcia looked back at Lazarus for a few seconds when she heard it clearer than ever before.

No wind or sword fight was impairing her hearing the next time she heard a female voice screaming her name. It seemed to carry through the air and hit her square in the chest.

Turning, Marcia pushed her way out of the crowd and ran deeper into the Roman camp.

All the soldiers seemed to be at the battle as Marcia trudged through the inches-deep puddles of mud, her eyes scanning the area around her as she tried to keep listening for the screams.

A few seconds later she heard it again; a short, blood-curdling shriek.

Marcia looked to her left. It was coming from one of the bigger tents.

Remembering her previous time in the camp, Marcia tried to recall the way out as she delved deeper between the rows of tents, but it was useless.

A Roman camp was like a maze.

Many of the tents still had fires burning outside of them but with no one present to enjoy the warmth they offered.

It had been a long while since Marcia had heard anything and she wondered if Lazarus had beaten Hadrian yet.

She tried not to think of the other possibility but she was confident that Hadrian had not killed Lazarus.

Partly because she trusted Lazarus's fighting skills, but mostly because she knew it Hadrian had won the Roman soldiers would send up a cheer so loud it would deafen her.

Such a cheer had not yet rented the air, so Marcia presumed they were still fighting.

Turning another corner, Marcia came to a small crossroads of pathways and was wondering which one to take when she peered down the path to the right and spotted a Roman a few dozen yards ahead.

He was stood beside a tent which had torches burning on either side of the entrance.

With everyone at the duel, Marcia took it as a hint that this was the tent where someone was screaming her name from.

Keeping to the shadows made by the tents, Marcia slipped as quietly up the path as she could when her boot gave a loud squelch and the man spun to look towards her.

Marcia reached for an arrow but she saw that he was still looking around her for the source of the noise.

He couldn't see her, and just when he took a step to investigate there was a high-pitched scream from the inside of the tent. Being this close, it sounded like a young girl that was screaming.

The man disappeared back inside quickly, forgetting all about Marcia.

Hurrying up the path, Marcia slipped the bow over her head until it rested across her shoulders, and removed her sword from its sheath.

A few feet from the entrance, Marcia reached out her hand to push the curtain aside when a low, thunderous chorus of cheers and exclamations travelled from the other side of the camp.

Marcia knew instantly where the cheers had originated from and she turned to look behind her with fear.

Lazarus couldn't be- No! He couldn't-

Her heart felt as if it had just been stabbed with an icicle and her brain couldn't seem to comprehend much more than the sound of the cheering.

She couldn't think about it. Clutching her sword, she walked the last few steps up to the tent before reaching out with her free hand and pulling the flap back.

The first thing she felt was a wall of warmth as she stepped forward over the threshold, her eyes adjusting to the sudden influx of light from numerous torches and candles burning in their holders.

As she ducked beneath the entrance, the curtain falling shut behind her, nobody seemed to notice her arrival over the soft groans that muffled the air.

It was much larger on the inside and Marcia spotted half a dozen cages, similar to the one which had held her captive before, pressed into the corner of the room.

As she looked at them she saw movement from the back of the cages and she realised that she had been staring at the men and women who had been crowded inside of them, forced to kneel or crouch.

Their eyes were wide and scared when Marcia saw a young woman to the front of the cage point to the other side of the tent.

Following her instruction, Marcia turned her head slowly and it took a few moments for her brain to catch up with what she was seeing.

Two girls had been strapped into chairs and forced to face each other. One of the girls had blood running down the side of her face whilst the other was holding her body awkwardly, sobbing quietly into her shoulder which seemed to be double its normal size.

Marcia knew instantly that it was dislocated.

The girl with the blood running down her cheek lifted her head, her eyes shut against the torture, and opened her lips to scream, "Help! Marcia!"

Her voice was filled with a waning sort of hope and helplessness.

"I told you to shut it!" A dark-haired guard stalked across to the girl and backhanded her across the jaw, his back and that of his colleague to Marcia.

Marcia answered in shock as she realised who the girl was, "Petra."

As she spoke, the guards became aware of her presence and spun in shock to find her stood there.

"Who are you?" The other guard asked, his thick brows furrowed in confusion, "You're not supposed to be here."

Marcia blinked, her thoughts seemingly disconnected from the present as she thought of her parents, "They said that too."

The dark haired guard did not care for further words as he withdrew his sword and approached her.

He only made it within a foot before Marcia, without concentrating too hard, raised her sword and blocked his attack.

Lifting her elbow, Marcia jabbed it into his throat and choked him before she untangled her sword and sunk it down into his chest.

Marcia watched the Roman sink slowly to his knees, her body feeling more alive in that moment than it had in the last twenty four hours, when Petra gave a shout of warning.

Glancing behind her, Marcia saw the other guard hurrying to his comrade's aid.

Planting her boot against the man's thigh, Marcia removed her sword from his chest and felt his warm blood squirt across her arms as she spun and hurled the blade across the tent.

Marcia looked on with eager eyes as she watched the blade disappear inside the man's abdomen, blood seeping out and staining his tunic.

Storming over, Marcia reached out and wrapped her fingers around the handle of her sword which was protruding from the man's stomach.

The guard looked from the sword in his abdomen back up to Marcia, shaking his head furiously.

Marcia needed only to look around her to remind her of the barbarity of Romans, and she yanked the sword from his still-warm flesh.

His body crumpled to the ground before her. It made Marcia's heart beat faster as some resemblance of control came fleeting back into her grasp. She couldn't have stopped her parents' death, but she could cause his.

"Marcia," Petra whispered her name as her head tilted to the side, her eyes drooping from fatigue, "You- You came."

"How did you know I was here?" Marcia asked as she removed a knife from her boot and slipped it beneath her bindings, cutting through the straps in no time.

"We . . . we heard them," Petra nodded to the guards, "talking about it. They were upset about missing a fight? Is Lazarus fighting?"

Marcia turned and attended to Philyra, "Do not worry yourself with that."

Philyra touched Marcia's wrist as she unstrapped her. Marcia smiled back tightly before slipping the knife back into her boot.

"But Mar-"

"Gather anything you can find," Marcia told her as she swooped down and picked her sword up from the ground, "We need to get you out of here whilst everyone is distracted."

Striding over to the cages, Marcia told those inside to cover their eyes as she swung her blade against the locks like an axe.

After the fifth strike, the lock came away and she moved on to the next. All the while, Petra kept calling Marcia's name.

When the final lock had been removed and those inside crawled out, Marcia turned and looked at Petra. She was stood directly in front of her with her arm around her sister.

"Marcia," Petra whispered, "I- I am so sorry."

Marcia frowned, a flash of panic running through her body, "What do you mean?"

Petra and Philyra stepped aside and pointed to the corner where another door rested. It was not the door which Marcia had entered through; this one seemed to lead to an antechamber.

As Marcia looked at the doorway, she realised that those which had been locked in the cages, nearly two dozen, were all bowing their heads in sympathy, as if they were all aware of what lay beyond it.

"What- What's in there?" Marcia asked, turning to Petra.

Petra just gave a small shake of her head, as if the news was too terrible for her to speak.

Marcia gazed at the doorway with torment; it was just a regular doorway and yet it seemed to be imposing a tremendous amount of fear upon her.

One half of her wanted to turn around and run away. The other half knew that she needed to see behind it, if she was to move on with her life.

As she was thinking this, the people around her parted to create a pathway towards the doorway. Stood shoulder to shoulder, they seemed almost to be leading her into another world, and all the while their heads were bowed.

Her boots felt as if they had just had rocks placed inside of them as the walk forward seemed to take an eternity.

As she reached the doorway, Marcia swallowed around the dry lump in her throat as she pulled the drape back and caught a glimpse of low-burning torches casting a darkened hue over the room.

It seemed as if the torches had been placed in their holders and allowed to burn low.

As she took a step forward, a strange scent causing her nose to crinkle, Marcia froze into place when she saw who was laid before her.

Her heart felt as if it was being wrenched from her chest as she screamed for the one person who could make it all go away, even when he wasn't by her side but fighting on a battlefield, "LAZARUS!"