Chapter 28

Krista watched helplessly as a new day dawned without Artorius by her side.

They had been apart before but this time it was different.

They had been forced apart; Artorius and Frieda were now in the hands of their enemy.

Krista did not know this ‘Argus’ very well and she feared what he might do to them.

But the one thing she did know was that Argus was a gladiator that had lost all honour; he was betraying his own kind by siding with Pompeia.

Resting in a tree, twenty feet off the ground, Krista ran a whetstone over her blade, feeling safer with every stroke that sharpened her sword.

The repetitive movement was soothing to her mind despite the warm pain that radiated out from her palm.

Trying her best to ignore it, Krista slid the whetstone back up her blade when her hand slipped and the whetstone tumbled out of her grasp, falling through the air before hitting the ground below her.

In a fit of rage, Krista curled her fingers around the hilt of her sword and hurled it at the ground, following the path of the whetstone.

Her heart was beating fast as she lifted her wounded hand and glared at it as if the hand alone had been the cause for Artorius being captured.

When in truth, Krista knew it had been her inability to kill Argus.

Krista had never met a man like Argus; taller than the tallest horse with the strength of half a dozen men.

Uncurling the bandage from around her palm, Krista gazed stubbornly at the flesh wound.

Memories of the fight flared through her mind as she stared at the horizontal cut on her left palm that had begun to clot over and tighten the skin.

Krista went at Argus with everything she had and yet it did not have an effect.

She remembered how she flew down onto his back and he simply picked her up as if she weighed nothing more than a leaf.

He threw her through the air like a discarded animal he no longer wanted.

And then he slinked away into the darkness with Artorius and Frieda to an unknown location.

Nobody knew where they had set up camp or even in what direction they had fled.

The entire spectacle seemed hopeless when Krista realised that she was wrong.

Artorius and Frieda were not the first people for Argus to capture.

Wrapping the bandage back around her hand, Krista swung her legs over the side of the branch and jumped from the tree.

Landing solidly on the ground, Krista collected her sword and rushed back to camp.

* * *

Diomed didn’t rest.

In the back of his mind he realised that the sun was rising over the horizon behind him, bathing his back in warmth, but he kept his eyes glued to the ground.

After trailing a dozen tracks from the battlefield that ended nowhere, Diomed was forced to retrace his own steps and return to the beginning.

He did this a few times before he found a promising lead.

Small branches had been snapped off the brushes as if a large gathering of people had gone through the area, the ground was sunken beneath his feet and the tracks lead away from the battle.

Taking the chance, Diomed followed the track for half a day, following broken twigs and the imprints of boots in the fresh mud.

As the sun continued to rise behind him, Diomed took a quick swig from his water skin, taking the few moments to gauge his surroundings.

Flickering his eyes around the forest, Diomed sensed that he was regrettably alone.

Argus and Rheia had done an excellent job of moving their quarry quickly.

Fastening the water skin back to his waist, Diomed turned back to face the front when the light of the dawn caught something trapped on a branch.

Moving off the trail by a few feet, Diomed narrowed his eyes at the branch as, what appeared to be, string blew against the soft morning wind.

Looking around him one last time, Diomed reached out his hand and caught the piece of thread between his thumb and forefinger.

Untangling it from the branch, Diomed lifted it up to his face.

And in that moment he realised that it wasn’t string but a strand of long blond hair.

* * *

As Krista returned to camp numerous people wished to exchange words in the aftermath of the battle but Krista had no words to break as her eyes were fixed firmly on Leonidas’s tent.

If Diomed succeeded and found where Artorius and Frieda were being held they would still need knowledge of the camp to free them.

And there was only one person who had returned from that camp; Cato.

Navigating herself around tables and other tents, Krista did not announce her arrival as she threw back the fabric and charged into the privacy of their tent.

Krista was glad to find that Leonidas was not present.

Cato was resting in their bed and Krista halted for a moment as her eyes fell upon him.

There seemed to be not one inch of his skin that wasn’t bruised or cut.

His left eye was swollen to twice its size, his bottom lip had been ripped open forcing Helga to provide Cato with stitches along with numerous other wounds that adorned his body.

He was hardly in a state to answer her questions but Krista knew that they had no more time to waste. She needed to save Artorius and Frieda.

Stepping up beside their bed, Krista looked down at Cato, her hand reaching out to wake him when his right eye started to blink open.

His left eye was too swollen and bloodied for the lids to part.

“Kr- Krista?” Cato’s voice sounded quiet and raspy before he doubled over as coughs racked his chest, his face scrunched up in pain.

Krista poured him some water and knelt beside the bed.

“Leonidas is out on the perimeter,” Cato tried to stand but Krista pushed him back. Cato let out a relieved sigh as he collapsed back against the bed.

“It is not Leonidas who I came to see,” Krista spoke softly.

Cato flickered his gaze up to hers and Krista saw the immediate grief that engulfed his mind.

“Krista . . .” Cato swallowed, “I- I tried to get us out but there were too many of them and-”

“-Cato? Cato!” Krista stopped him from speaking, “You did what you had to do but now I need to know something else. Do you remember where they kept you?”

“No,” Cato shook his head, “We were blindfolded.”

“You were blindfolded the entire time?” Krista doubted, “Anything you can remember, Cato. The number of tents, what did the trees look like?”

“I- I don’t remember,” Cato struggled as he lifted himself up, “I was blindfolded.”

“What did you hear!? Rheia must have spoken to you!” Krista was growing agitated with his lack of helpfulness.

“No, Krista,” Cato shook his head as he reached for the cup by his side but Krista whipped it from his grasp, “Krista?”

“You know something,” Krista narrowed her eyes in rage at Cato, holding the water out of his reach.

“Krista,” Cato’s voice was soft, sensing she was about to unravel.

“You know something,” Krista was adamant when a new thought entered her mind, “How much gold did it take to buy you?”

“What?” Cato coughed.

Krista flew into a frenzy as she hurled the beam behind his head, the water tipping out over his body, “How much!?”

“Cato? Cato!” Leonidas’s voice suddenly sounded from outside.

Krista rushed to Cato’s side, “Tell me! What do you know!?”

“Cato- Krista!” Leonidas shouted as he walked in and saw her, stood over Cato with her hand curled into a fist, “What in Jupiter are you doing?”

“He knows something, Leonidas,” Krista spoke fast, “He knows something about where the others are! He knows!” Krista started to crumple.

“Krista,” Leonidas walked towards her when she turned in a flurry of movement.

Grasping her wrists before she did something she regretted, Leonidas pulled her hands up in front of her, “Krista, look at me. Look at me!”

Krista looked into Leonidas’s cerulean blue eyes and blinked, her mind starting to grow back under control.

“You need to keep yourself together,” Leonidas ordered her, “You’re starting to lose it. Now, Cato says he doesn’t know anything, then he doesn’t know anything.”

Krista took an unsteady breath as her body began to shake.

Looking down at Cato Krista realised that she was harming an already injured man.

A man who was injured trying to aid her cause; Krista should be offering gratitude not suspicion.

Wrenching her wrists out of Leonidas’s grip, Krista bowed her head and hurried from the tent, too embarrassed about how she acted to face them any longer.

Krista could feel her breathing starting to grow erratic, her heart racing inside of her chest and her vision was growing blurry in her panic.

“Krista?”

A voice called her name but Krista was in no mood to speak as she raced from the camp and back into the safety of the forest.

* * *

“Krista?” Dianna blinked as she saw the Gladiatrix rushing through the camp.

She did not look safe nor did she look sane.

Looking around her, Dianna saw Leonidas stood in the entrance of his tent watching Krista leave before he ducked back inside his tent and did not re-emerge.

Curious as to what was happening, Dianna slipped between a few of the tents and came out near the forest just in time to see Krista slipping inside the dense bush.

Still, no one was following her and Dianna felt the blade grow warm against her thigh, yearning to be removed but she left it there.

Approaching quietly, Dianna crouched underneath a low hanging branch and stepped into the forest; grass giving way to mud.

Dianna was walking for a few minutes, her eyes scanning the area around her, when a dull thudding sound reached her ears.

Freezing on the spot, Dianna listened for a few moments. The dull thuds continued to resonate around her, followed with the quiet grunts of exertion.

Realising the direction they were coming from, Dianna started to walk again.

Stepping over a few branches and brushing a few leaves aside, the sounds were growing in volume and intensity before Dianna turned a tree and saw Krista.

Not thinking, Dianna darted behind the nearest tree and watched Krista from a distance.

What is she doing? Dianna thought as she watched Krista hitting her sword against the tree, her blade burying itself a few inches into the bark every time.

Dianna frowned at the actions but it was the sounds Krista was making that made Dianna more concerned.

Krista let out grunts of exertion and anger at first, as if the tree had done her some physical harm but as her strikes grew less in intensity, Krista stopped grunting and started to scream.

Throwing the sword to the ground, Krista started to punch the tree with her fists but it was the pain in Krista’s voice that made Dianna shrink back behind the tree.

Dianna could not watch Krista’s turmoil any longer but the sound of her cries for Artorius would not dissipate.

They seemed to strike her in the heart every time.

Dianna knew that she should not pity this woman; this woman that murdered her father.

But this was the first time that Dianna had seen Krista display any show of emotion and it dawned on Dianna that Krista loved Artorius; the man that Dianna had stabbed and handed to Rheia.

Dianna was slowly beginning to feel the soft tendrils of regret for her actions start to seep in to her bones.

Remembering the kind face of her father, Dianna turned and hurried from the forest as fast as she could.

* * *

As the sun rose and Frieda awakened from her unconsciousness she slowly started to absorb her new surroundings.

Sitting up in her cage, her hands still bound with a length of rope attached, Frieda looked to the cage beside her and saw that they were empty.

Her mind went wild as she searched for Artorius.

Gazing out across the rows of tents that expanded in front of them, Frieda’s gaze was drawn to the largest tent.

It was cream and red in colour with the flag of the empire flapping in the wind above it. Two guards were positioned out front in their ceremonial positions.

Frieda struggled against her bindings as her memories started to flood her mind.

Dianna.

Frieda squeezed her eyes shut as she tried to remember. The soldier that had hit her over the head when they’d arrived at the camp seemed to have done a good job at hindering her memories.

Groaning against the soft pounding inside her head, Frieda’s eyes flew open as she heard soldiers approaching.

Looking back at the largest tent, which Frieda assumed to be Argus’s, she saw two roman soldiers, dressed in their sleek black uniforms, dragging Artorius.

Rushing the side of her cage, Frieda pressed her face against the bars as he was dragged in front of her.

His eyes were closed as his head was bowed forward and blood dripped from his mouth.

“Artorius?” Frieda shouted, trying to get his attention, before the door to his cage was unlocked and he was hurled inside.

“Artorius!” Frieda frowned with worry as the Greek barely had the strength to turn over onto his back, his head falling to the side as he fell into unconsciousness.

Frieda wanted to reach him but she could not as the soldiers came to her cell next and grabbed her by the wrists.

Lifted to her feet, Frieda was jostled between the two out of her cell and towards the same tent Artorius had occupied moments earlier.

Fear coursed through her body at what she was about to face and struggled against her captors but their grip was strong and her hands were bound.

The man’s fingers curled around the back of her neck and pressed down, making her head tilt back before he pushed her into the tent and threw her onto the ground.

Turning over onto her back, Frieda gazed up at the two men who were going to be her tormentors.

The one on the left looked at her like she was a barbarian with his black eyes glazing over her body and the way her skirts rode up on her thighs from where she was thrown to the ground.

The man on her right seemed even more horrendous with his pimpled skin and beard growth. His lips were pulled into a smile as the two men looked at each other, sharing a mutual thought of destruction.

The man with the scraggly beard knelt by her side and wrapped his fingers around her thigh, moving his fingers over her soft flesh.

“Oh ho,” the man chortled, “She’s warm.”

Frieda’s eyes grew wide with fear as she fisted her bound hands and hurled them against the left side of his face, making his body fall into her lap.

Lifting her legs, Frieda wrapped her thighs around his neck and started to squeeze.

“Are they warm now!?” Frieda spat at his face as she continued to choke the life from his wretched body.

Sensing that the other man had moved, Frieda looked up and saw him stood above her but she could do nothing to halt the end of his spear descending upon her head.

Pain flared across her scalp as she felt a cold rush of blood seep down the side of her face, her legs releasing the man instantly.

Frieda blinked slowly, trying to shake the pain away, but her vision was beginning to grow blurry and she couldn’t sense what was happening.

Her actions enraged the pair of men as she was hurled to her feet and thrown against a table.

The wooden desk threatened to topple over as she reached out her hands to cover her fall, the blood from her head wound threatening to seep into her eyes.

“Cassiel!” The man from behind her shouted, “Hold her down!” One of the men shouted, making Frieda’s heart skip a beat when she felt clammy palms latch onto her arms from the other side of the table, pulling her chest down onto the desk.

Blinking rapidly, Frieda looked in front of her and saw that it was the scraggly beard man, Cassiel, holding her wrists as his friend stepped up behind her.

Frieda tried to pull her hands away but Cassiel was strong despite his appearance and soon Frieda felt the dark-haired man’s hand wrapping around her thighs, pushing her skirts aside to expose her most vulnerable area.

Frieda had survived being raped on a pirate ship and as a slave in the arena; she could damn well survive two hot-headed romans.

Her hands were bound but her legs were free.

Bending her left leg up towards her hip, Frieda wedged her boot against the man’s thigh and pushed him away from her.

Hearing the man fall into a table behind, Frieda turned her attention to Cassiel but the table between them and his hands on her arms was preventing Frieda from doing anything.

“Pericles!?” Cassiel shouted over the top of Frieda to his friend.

Looking over her shoulder, she gazed at Pericles as he stormed to his feet and started to strip off his belt, his eyes looking at her wit furry.

“No,” Frieda struggled but she couldn’t escape as Pericles shoved into her from behind, slamming back down against the table and that’s when she felt it.

The sharp edge of a blade scraped up the back of her thigh as her skirts were pushed out of the way once again.

“If you try anything like that again,” Pericles rested his chest against her back and pressed his lips to her ear, “Then I’ll do worse than kill you.”

Frieda yanked her head away to the right as she felt him start to envelope her ear in his mouth, his teeth grazing against her skin.

Revolted simply by that action alone, Frieda continued to struggle as Pericles pushed her skirts up and tore the cloth of her undergarments.

“Tell me, slave,” Pericles words made Frieda feel like she was back in chains, her life no longer in her own hands, “Have you ever had a man before?”

“Go to Tartarus!” Frieda screamed as Pericles sunk his fingers into her hair and wrenched her head back whilst he pressed his hips forward.

Pericles only laughed as she felt him push her legs wider open.

Frieda could only grit her teeth against the pain as it finally happened.