Chapter 3

They set out in all directions from the camp to find Atticus.

The temperature was dropping as night rolled in and there was no moon to provide any light as they trekked through the forest.

With over two dozen gladiators out looking it would not be long before they found the boy and then they could move on to more pressing matters.

Such as locating this villa and freeing the slaves inside.

Torch lights flickered in the darkness, reminding Krista that she was not alone in the darkness, as they continued to canvas the area.

But despite so many people around her, Krista still felt cold and alone as the wind whisked away any warmth from her torch in the opposite direction.

Because all Krista could think about as the darkness seeped into her soul, was what Pompeia was doing right now.

Was she sleeping? Was she plotting their deaths?

Every waking moment of the day, a part of Krista’s mind was permanently fixed on Rome and the Empress.

Krista had failed to kill Pompeia on two occasions and no matter how much she tried to persuade herself otherwise, Krista knew it was because of those around her.

Those who would call her their friends, their lover, had stopped her from killing Pompeia twice; the first time, Artorius had pulled her away as Myra distracted the guards.

And the second time, she had allowed herself to be governed by emotions. Pompeia had seized the one thing Krista had come to love after Lazarus had departed this world.

Her emotions had made Krista vulnerable. They had made her easy to manipulate, but worst of all, easy to control.

All Pompeia had to do was reach out her hand, dig her claws into Artorius and Krista would be lost.

Looking to her left, Krista eyed Artorius’s torch merely twenty feet away as he walked parallel to her.

Trying not to think on her troubles, Krista focused her energy on finding the boy; it may have been wiser to set out in the morning but by that time Atticus would be in the clutches of the romans.

And what sort of leader would Krista be if she left even one person under her command to their death?

Not a very good one, Krista answered her own question as she knew exactly what Lazarus would say.

Taking a deep breath, her eyes searching the immediate horizon as she searched for any movement, something inside of Krista started to tingle.

It was a strange sensation she had come accustomed to trusting as the wind shifted above her, the sound of rustling leaves reaching her ears like a distant cry.

It was barely there and yet Krista knew someone was in the trees above her.

Making herself an easy target, Krista stopped short and waited.

She didn’t have to wait long before a small intake of breath from the person concealed in the trees alerted Krista to their next move.

Keeping her body still, Krista waited until the last moment before she threw her torch to the ground and whipped around to catch the falling body out of mid-air.

Curling her fingers in their tunic, Krista threw them to the ground and away from her body when she caught a flash of his amber eyes.

“Atticus?” Krista whispered, her eyes glancing back up at the tree he had just jumped from, impressed.

“You can’t stop me!” Atticus shouted as he scrambled to his feet and tried to run away.

“Hey!” Krista exclaimed as she shot out her arm and caught the back of his tunic, yanking him back to her side, “You’re not going anywhere but back to camp,”

“No!” Atticus tried to fight her as she reached down and picked up her torch, “I can save them. You can’t stop me,”

“The only thing you’re going to do is get yourself killed,” Krista shook her head as she marched him back over to the others.

“No, I can free them,” Atticus spoke with the naivety of a child as he fought to be free of her grasp.

“Hey,” Krista stopped in them in their tracks and levelled her face with his, “Stop wriggling,” she threatened, “Or I’ll knock you unconscious and carry you back to camp.”

Atticus scrunched his lips together but he remained silent and didn’t fight her.

“Good lad,” Krista straightened up and walked onwards, “And don’t worry about your parents,” she tried to reassure him, “We’ll get them out.”

Krista saw Atticus raise his head to look at her, his golden eyes widening, as he heard her words.

They shared a smile as Krista released his tunic and rested her hand on his shoulder, guiding him out of the forest but not necessarily back to safety.

*

“Atticus is asleep,” Krista sighed as she walked into their tent, removing her sheath as she did so and setting it down on the table.

Rubbing her hand against the back of her neck, Krista looked across at Artorius who was sat in front of the desk, gazing down at the map.

Krista frowned at the look of severe concentration on Artorius’s face; lines etched into his brow as his brooding ebony eyes sparkled in the candlelight.

“Artorius?” Krista frowned as she walked to his side, her eyes clocking the dish of fruit on the table, suddenly overwhelmed with a fierce hunger she hadn’t felt in a few days.

Wishing it was something more substantial than fruit, Krista couldn’t afford to be choosy as she gathered an apple into her palm and sunk her teeth into its juicy centre.

“This villa,” Artorius tapped his finger against its location on the map, “It’s barely a day’s march from here,”

“Good,” Krista spoke around the food in her mouth, “We can get this over with soon,”

Artorius glanced up at her as he heard her choice of words, “You seem to care for the boy,”

Krista turned away, her entire body suddenly feeling tired, “I didn’t need him getting caught by the romans and spilling his guts,”

“Aah, I don’t believe that,” Artorius shook his head at her response.

“Believe what you want,” Krista argued, “But the lives of five hundred people matter more to me than the life of one stupid little boy,”

Artorius laughed softly at her attempt to remain the same cold-hearted woman he had met in Danghmar who befriended a tiger.

But Artorius wasn’t so easily fooled but he knew she needed this image so he didn’t push it. Instead, he strode up behind her and rested his hands on her hips as he inhaled the scent of her hair.

“I could get used to this,” Artorius closed his eyes in content.

Krista arched an eyebrow, “Standing behind me?”

“No,” Artorius chuckled, his husky voice warming her ears, “I mean I could get used to this; coming home to you every day,”

Krista knew that the remark was meant to be comforting to her but it had the opposite effect.

It sounded like Artorius wanted to settle down to a quiet life but that was the farthest from anything in Krista’s mind right then.

Krista’s whole existence was focused on killing Pompeia and righting the many wrongs she had enacted.

Besides, Krista had had a quiet life once but that had gone up in flames and now Krista could not imagine a day without fighting.

It was the thing that kept her heart beating and her soul thriving; the thought of being in a situation where she had control over something but at the same time had control over nothing.

It wasn’t something she could explain; it was something she could only feel and she felt like she could never let that go.

She thought that Artorius felt that same desire but maybe she was wrong. Maybe Artorius wasn’t as bloodthirsty as she was.

“You-” Krista swallowed, “You would leave this behind?” The idea seemed preposterous to Krista.

She felt Artorius nod his head, “Not any time soon,” Artorius informed her, “But we can’t keep fighting when we’re old and grey,”

Krista didn’t have the confidence to think that they would live long enough to enter their prime years or even long enough to experience a quiet life.

Maybe that was a good thing; all Krista had ever known was a life of battle.

“And for the right woman,” Artorius purred in her ear as he brushed her hair aside and pressed his soft lips against the nape of her neck.

“No,” Krista suddenly stepped from his grasp, the word being torn from her lips with fear.

“Krista?” Artorius frowned, not knowing why she pulled from him.

But as Krista stared into those dark eyes that held so much trust and love for her, Krista knew that whilst she had strong feelings for him, she could not return the same feelings so ardently for him.

It scared her to think that someone could trust her so much when she didn’t know how he could.

The thought made her panic as she turned and rushed from their tent; his trusting eyes following her and even now she knew she was hurting him.

But Krista couldn’t stop herself.

*

Krista wandered the camp as she grew fascinated by the lives of such simple folk.

Yesterday they were slaves; bound by servitude and not knowing when they would next be beaten or fed.

And today they were free individuals; their masters were dead and they looked as if they were on a trip to the Elysium fields as all the weight seemed to be lifted from their shoulders.

Krista envied them.

The more she gazed upon them the more she hated them; they could laugh and smile at the tiniest thing.

They experienced the hardship of slavery and yet Krista wished that Commander Niclaus, who slaughtered her family and burned her village, would have sent her to the workhouse.

There would be no Gladiatrix, no rebellion but most of all there would be no pain.

Krista would not have had to endure watching Lazarus die; she would not have had to endure the pain of knowing she caused his death and countless others.

But on the flip side, if she had not gone down that path Pompeia would now be ruling unchallenged and she would have never avenged her family.

And as much as she hated it, she knew that Pompeia needed to be taken down from her perch and if Krista didn’t do it then she didn’t know who would.

Stealing a roll of bread from a cart, Krista carried on walking as she felt the cold night air against her face.

Krista could sleep for days at that moment but she knew the moment she closed her eyes the nightmares would descend.

She would be forced to watch Lazarus die; forced to watch Myra being shot with arrows but the worst thing wasn’t the past, it was future she was shown.

Images of a future battle upon a plain that looked like any other but by the end it would be covered in a layer of blood and bodies.

And amongst those bodies lay the corpses of Frieda, Leonidas, Cato and Artorius whilst she remained alive, forced to endure life alone.

The image left her frozen to the bone with fear.

Navigating herself around a fire where people gathered, Krista wished to remain hidden, when she looked up and saw Frieda returning from bathing, water drops still clinging to her body.

The Briton's blonde hair was knotted atop her head as she roughly pulled on her clothes, carrying her armour and sword close to her chest.

Krista remained standing where she was, a smile playing on her lips, as she waited for Frieda to turn and see her.

“Krista,” Frieda stopped in her tracks.

Krista simply raised an eyebrow at her appearance.

Frieda shrugged, "I like to bathe alone."

“I was not going to say anything,” Krista held her hands up.

“These Roman rivers do nothing for me. They are so dirty," Frieda sighed as she dropped her tunic, leaving her bare to Krista’s gaze, and those all around her, as she started to dress, “Besides, soon I shall be back in Britain where the water runs clear.”

Krista sighed, Frieda always said that. The Briton had joined them after the battle with the Roman’s five months ago only as a stepping stone between Rome and Britain.

But Frieda had not gone one step closer to Britain and Krista was glad for it; Krista would miss this fierce warrior if she left her side.

“I’m starving,” Frieda announced as she fastened her metal pauldron’s to her shoulders and slipped on her matching metal arm cuffs; a present from a recently deceased Roman.

Krista smiled at the Briton, praying to the gods that she did not leave Krista here alone as they carried on walking towards food.

* * *

Gaius Aurelius stared down at this girl with raven hair and cerulean blue eyes with contempt.

Empress Pompeia had sent a messenger ahead of the girl’s arrival detailing the plan but Gaius did not like it; it was foolish and wrought with bad planning.

This girl had no training in combat and nor did she seem to have any intelligence he could speak of as she willingly volunteered to enter the lion’s den.

“You understand that I cannot guarantee your survival,” Gaius informed her for the tenth time since she had arrived that morning at camp; he needed her to understand the severity of the task she was undertaking.

“Why do you keep asking me that?” Dianna squeaked at him; her high tone voice grating at his ears as they stood inside his tent.

Gaius straightened up to his full height and glared down at the girl who was now putting the lives of his men at risk.

“My allegiance lies with the Empress and with that I will carry out any order she asks of me,” Gaius walked around his table, his eyes fixed on Dianna’s as she wavered beneath his temper.

“But on that note,” Gaius told her truthfully, “My loyalty also lies with my men and I will not condone any action that might end in their deaths,”

“They're soldiers,” Dianna whispered, not knowing why he cared so much.

“These are good men who risk their lives to serve the empire,” Gaius burst out in rage at her vanity and stupidity, “Not to serve a petty girl who is the subject of the Empress’s new plan,”

Dianna had the decency to look away, her fingers rubbing at her wrists.

“Hold in mind that if Krista discovers you,” Gaius caught her gaze so she knew he was not lying, “You are on your own. No one shall be coming to rescue you,”

Dianna opened her mouth about to declare that she was the Emperor’s daughter when she remembered her Aunt’s words.

Nobody must know who she is. They would use her for their own gain.

“A wise decision,” Gaius nodded his head as he saw that she chose to remain silent rather than speak, “As I said, I shall carry out these orders but no more. Pompeia wishes us to conceal you in with the other slaves at a villa. But that is all,”

Dianna's eyes flickered across the tent of half a dozen men who stared at her in humour; no one believed that she could do it.

Well, Dianna would show them.

“Once you enter that villa then you are on your own and know this,” Gaius threatened her, “If you put any of my men in danger then I will personally see to it that you are hanged,”

Dianna did not doubt it as she saw the severity in his eyes; his dedication to his troops confused her and yet scared her at the same time.

“Bind her wrists,” Gaius snapped at a man to the side who never hesitated in his orders.

These men follow Gaius Aurelius with loyalty, Dianna realised as chains were locked around her wrists, just like a slave.

The metal was cold and heavy against her small wrists, weighing her body down to the ground.

“Take her to the carriage!” Gaius waved them away, disgusted with her presence in the room, “And make sure she reaches the villa!”

The men nodded their understanding of his orders before they marched her from the tent, leaving him alone with a slip of paper with the Empress’s sigil.

“After that,” Gaius turned and burnt the parchment in the candle that rested on the table, “She’s Krista’s problem.”