Chapter 12

Rheia had been ordered into Argus’s, ‘the Destroyers’, close council of a hundred elite soldiers.

Pompeia had told Rheia that she was indispensable to the operation but Rheia knew the truth.

She knew that in Pompeia’s mind she was simply another piece to be moved around on the board but who wasn’t?

Every soldier in the Legion was a person to be sacrificed for the betterment of this empire; their sacrifice allowed a new age to dawn and freedom to survive.

If Rheia had to give her life in battle to keep Krista from gaining control then it was a price she would gladly play.

The Gladiatrix Rheia had fought in the arena was impulsive, arrogant, single-minded and relentless.

She wanted revenge, Rheia knew that, but once she got it, then what?

What would the Gladiatrix do once she gained power? She knew how to swing a sword, not how to govern an empire.

The entirety of Rome, its provinces and allies would fall for one woman’s vengeance.

Krista had not thought of anything past slipping her dagger into Pompeia’s flesh and stopping her heart.

Rome needed an emperor; its people needed guidance or chaos would ensue.

Rheia was saving millions of innocent souls by helping Pompeia to kill Krista.

But the possibility of dying was not what scared her right then.

The object that scared Rheia in that present moment was the seven foot giant with bulging arms that stood in front of her.

“Draw your sword,” Argus growled at her, sweat glistening on his skin.

Looking around his rather large physique, Rheia clocked the line of wounded soldiers who had already been ‘tested’.

Argus was dedicated and meticulous.

He took nothing to chance, especially the training and skills of the men be would be ordering into battle.

Rheia turned from the wounded and gave Argus her best confident look even as her heart palpitated in intimidation.

The sun over her head was blocked by his sheer size, casting her in his shadow.

“We need to get moving,” Rheia told him, ignoring his request. She was a gladiator like him; she had no need to be tested like the sons of Rome who stood against the wall.

“Draw your sword,” Argus spat at the ground, the sweat on his skin making the patches of blonde hair that covered his scalp to glisten revoltingly and the lines on his face to deepen harshly.

Rheia took an unsteady breath as she saw that she was not getting away from his request; she may have been attached to his division by the Empress but it offered her no special treatment.

The sand of the training arena crunched beneath her boots, invoking powerful memories of screaming crowds and cries of pain.

Rheia was thinking this when she caught the muscle in his upper right shoulder move out of the corner of her eye.

Diving forward and rolling over the sand, Rheia jumped to her feet and spun to face him.

A horrible grimace was stretched over his lips; he was impressed that she had dodged his attack.

But that was the best Rheia could do; any punch she managed to land against his skin hardly caused him to blink.

After another failed attempt at kicking the back of his knees, Rheia ran backwards as she struggled to escape his swiping arms.

He had the same strength as a mindless beast that bulldozed through everything in its path; the ground shook beneath his heavy steps and he seemed to feel no pain.

The sun had barely moved in the sky when Rheia was too exhausted, she missed a step.

Her foot twisted in the sand, allowing Argus to wrap his hands around her upper arms and pick her up off the ground as if she weighed nothing more than a branch.

He frightened Rheia; she couldn’t move in his grasp as it felt like he was about to shatter the bones in her body.

This man contained a godly strength that any man would be wise to avoid.

As she was lifted off the ground, their faces became level and for the first time since Rheia had met this beast from the south, she saw the colour of his eyes.

They were a startling grey colour; the same shade as a rising storm.

As she stared into those depths, Rheia felt his grip on her arms loosen and his expression soften.

But Rheia was in no doubt that he still hated her.

“Go,” Argus released her and she crashed to the ground in a heap of exhausted limbs, “Pompeia will be expecting her report.”

Rheia closed her eyes and her shoulders deflated as she heard his swords; Argus was not a man to be fooled; least of all by Pompeia.

* * *

Krista was not fooled.

She prided herself on being a little more intelligent than the masses so when Artorius charged in front of her and deprived yet another Roman from feeling the sharpness of her sword, Krista became suspicious.

She was suspicious when he insisted on Leonidas coming with them on a simple scouting journey.

Artorius would have taken this time to be alone with her, which Krista desperately needed, but chose instead to bring another man; another gladiator.

Krista knew what he was doing but she would not have it.

Allowing Artorius the prize of killing a man who weighed no more than a hundred pounds at best, Krista turned her attention on the two men Leonidas was fighting.

Krista rather thought that he needed an extra sword.

Slipping away from Artorius, Krista started to run across the twenty foot gap between her and Leonidas.

When she was close enough, Krista took another step before she pushed off her right foot and somersaulted through the air and over the top of Leonidas’s head.

Landing behind him on the soft ground, Krista caught a glance of Leonidas’s concerned face as he gazed upon her.

Flashing him a smile, he should have known better than to try and keep her from a battle.

Turning her back to his, Krista raised her sword and started to fight a tall, dark haired man with pale skin and a grimace upon his lips.

He seemed terribly determined to try and do her harm and yet he was already faltering.

His breathing was laboured, his footwork was poor and he gripped his sword too tight.

This would be easy, Krista sighed with mild disappointment as she went to strike the man’s sword from his grasp.

But before she could complete the strike a large person fell from the sky in front of her.

She barely had to look at the back of his head to know that it was Artorius.

Darting a look to the right, Krista saw the hundred pound Roman lying dead on the ground.

“Bloody Greek!” Krista shouted in frustration as Artorius stole another one of her kills.

Krista’s fingers itched to sink her sword into someone and Artorius was looking more like a target than an ally at that immediate moment.

“Do not think that I do not know what you’re doing,” Krista snapped at Artorius as he turned and flashed her a dashing smile, “Because I do. Know,”

Artorius frowned at her choice of words.

“And where did you learn to do that?” Krista sheathed her sword without even having to look, keeping her eyes locked on his ebony ones which, at the moment, were dancing with mirth.

“I do not know what you mean,” Artorius glanced at Leonidas over her shoulder.

“The flip!” Krista pointed to where he had been stood with the small roman to where he stood now; she did not know that he had mastered the skill.

“I’ve been with you long enough now to pick up a few tricks,” Artorius chuckled as he sheathed his own sword and turned to speak with Leonidas.

“Tricks?” Krista hissed, “I didn’t know that what I did were simply tricks,” She growled as she stormed past him.

“Where do you go!?” Artorius grew concerned as she left his sight; gods forbid that she should know how to defend herself.

“To seek company with those who can hold a conversation!” Krista shouted at the pair over her shoulder.

*

“Turn your body to the side,” Krista instructed as she stepped forward and positioned Dianna’s body the right way, remembering Lazarus’s lessons to herself, “It makes you a smaller target,” Krista explained.

Frieda had been away on hunting duty when Krista had returned to camp and she had no wish to go trekking after the Briton who may mistake her for a deer; though they would be blessed to find any deer in these parts.

“Now,” Krista placed herself within an arm’s reach of Dianna, “try and attack me,”

Krista saw the uncertainty in Dianna’s eyes but there was also a fire there that Krista recognised.

Krista did not have to wait too long but Dianna made the first wrong move of any fight; she looked at where she was going to attack.

“Look in my eyes,” Krista reassured her, “In a fight, when the next strike could mean whether you live or die, it’s all in the eyes,”

Krista stared deep into Dianna’s eyes, her warm blue eyes turning to a strange ice cerulean colour that Krista had only seen one other time.

It made Krista take a deep breath to steady her head.

“Are you well?” Dianna frowned at Krista’s peculiar expression.

“I thought . . .” Krista closed her eyes, “I thought I was looking at someone else.”

Dianna went pale with shock and Krista was sure she had scared the girl.

Krista would not normally divert so much of her attention to a poor slave girl they had rescued but she had saved Artorius.

She did not need to save him and yet she did.

It had been Dianna’s first kill, Krista could tell that the moment she looked in her eyes, but thus far she was handling it well.

And Krista was, regrettably, indebted to her.

The last time Krista had been indebted to someone it had not turned out so well; for either parties involved.

Krista shook her head, trying to gather her bearings, when her body tingled.

Krista had felt the sensation so many times before that she knew instantly what it meant and yet, for a moment she doubted herself.

Pregnancy did a lot to a body; how did Krista know that this wasn’t just another trick her body was playing on her.

But she chose not to take the risk, so, stepping up to Dianna and turning her voice into a whisper, Krista told Dianna to go back to camp.

“What? But why-” Dianna asked in her normal voice.

“Ssh,” Krista reassured her, “I need you to turn around, go back to camp. Slowly.” Krista emphasised, she did not need the man to think that she was aware of him, “Find Artorius and bring him back here. Tell no one else but Artorius. Do you understand?”

Dianna nodded her head carefully, still not entirely aware of what was happening.

“Keep the dagger with you. You’ll be safe,” Krista touched her shoulder as she turned and headed back to camp.

After bidding Dianna a rather loud fake farewell, Krista knelt on the ground and started to play around with her boot.

Tilting her head forward, Krista allowed her hair to form a curtain between herself and the world.

Glancing up through the thick locks, Krista scanned the horizon but could see not another living soul.

And yet she knew he was there.

Closing her eyes, Krista tried to listen but there were too many sounds.

And that’s when she felt it; another tingle. It washed over her skin like a wave, making her spine shiver, even as the wind carried the stale stench of old bread and fish up her nostrils.

Licking her lips nervously, Krista slipped the dagger from her boot and concealed against the underside of her wrist.

Getting to her feet slowly, Krista kept her body relaxed, trying to give away as little as possible until the last moment.

It felt like forever but soon she was standing vertically and as she took a step to the side, she acted in a flash.

Spinning around, Krista raised her hand and threw the dagger through the air straight at the intruder’s head where he waited in the distance.

And in the next second, as her dagger was still flying through the short space, it shot out of the air by an arrow that impaled itself against a tree.

Krista followed the object’s sudden change in path with shock.

Turning to face the man, Krista’s hand slipped around the sword at her waist, watching him warily.

“Please,” the man held up his hand, his voice sounded surprisingly light and pleasant, “I hope there will be no need for any unpleasantness,”

Krista narrowed her eyes at him as he walked forward, holding his bow out to the side with one hand as he raised his other in surrender.

She gazed at the arrow that was imbedded in the tree trunk with concern; she had never met an archer so accurate to shoot a small, fast flying object out of mid-air.

“I was surprised you heard me approach,” The man brought her attention back to him, “People only know I’m there when I want them to.”

Krista raised an eyebrow, “You’ve been following me for the past week. Ever since you killed those Romans,”

The man was closer now and Krista could tell that he was young; not as young as she but not far off.

His skin was pale and his head had been shaved. He had high cheekbones and large blue eyes.

He seemed to pose no threat with his slight figure and innocent expression but Krista knew he was deadly.

“How did you know?” He frowned.

Krista shrugged her shoulder, keeping her hand on her sword, “A hunch,”

“Then why, if you knew I had been following you for a week, did you not stop me sooner?”

“I wanted to see what you would do,” Krista was curious, “But it seems I waited for nothing if you can simply shoot objects in mid-air,” Krista kept her face straight.

The man’s gaze turned hard as he armed his bow, raised his arms and shot an arrow with his eyes glued to hers the entire time.

Krista broke her eyes from his intent stare and saw where the arrow had impaled itself in a tree trunk, level with Artorius’s eyes as he rushed through the forest to get to her.

“Anyone can shoot an arrow,” Krista tried not to be startled by the man’s talent as he almost killed Artorius without even looking.

Even Krista had not heard Artorius approach but this man had.

“Anyone can swing a sword,” The bald headed man smirked back at her in humour.

And despite everything, Krista rather thought that she shared a lot with this man.