“Sister, I am so sorry,” Felix said as he clutched her free hand. Kiana squeezed his hand and weakly shook her head.
“No,” she whispered. “It is I who brought about our deaths. Oh Felix, I am so sorry…I would like to have become your little sister…” Her breathing became shallow and then ceased altogether; a final tear falling from her eye, her hand giving Felix’s one last squeeze before life abandoned her. The legionary rolled to his back, one hand clutching his ruptured abdomen, the other Kiana’s now lifeless hand. He sobbed uncontrollably as pain and sorrow overtook him.
“Over here!” Magnus shouted as he pointed to an outside door that led into the hallway parallel to the room Felix had breached from below.
“Let’s go!” Artorius shouted as he rushed up the short flight of stairs. The landing inside was short, just long enough for three rooms to occupy. The last door was open; a pool of blood flowing onto the landing.
“Dear gods, no,” Artorius said in a low voice. A horrifying sight greeted him as he stepped into the gore-stricken room. On the right side lay the decapitated corpse of Heracles’ deputy, that vile bastard Radek. In the near corner on his left he saw the lifeless body of Kiana lying next to the stricken Legionary Felix, who was sobbing weakly as the pain of his terrible wound consumed him.
“I’m sorry Sir,” he said as Artorius knelt down to tend to him. “I’m so sorry…please…please tell Tierney I’m sorry.”
“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” the Decanus replied as he picked up the fallen soldier. Felix gave fresh cry of pain as Artorius laid him on the bed. He grimaced when he saw how badly the legionary was wounded. The abdomen was sliced cleanly open and was seeping blood and fluid. He lowered his head and closed his eyes, not even acknowledging the presence of Magnus and the rest of his section.
“Artorius, there’s no sign of…dear gods,” Magnus stopped short when he saw the wounded legionary. He scarcely paid any heed to the corpses or the blood that was sticking to his caligae sandals. Valens shook his head sadly as he eyed to horrific sight. He knelt next to Kiana’s body and gently closed her eyes.
“You have to go,” Felix said between gasps. “There’s…nothing you can do for me.” Artorius shook his head and immediately started tearing into the bed sheets, making a hasty bandage.
“You don’t die until I tell you to!” he said as he wrapped the sheets around the legionary’s torso. He rolled up one section into a ball, which he placed directly over the wound before tying it down. “We’ll get you help as soon as we can. You just stay alive; you hear me?” Felix nodded, tears flowing freely down his cheeks.
From the commotion coming from the courtyard, Artorius surmised that Macro and the rest of the Century had breached the gate. The alarm had been raised once they did, but it did not matter now. It was quickly getting light out, and he desperately wanted to link up with the rest of his unit. Someone had to go fetch help, lest Felix die a slow and agonizing death. The lad had come with him with the purest of intentions and there was no way he was going to let him die.
Quickly they descended the outside steps and raced towards where they knew the front gate to be. As Artorius rounded a corner, as spear flew from a nearby balcony. It had a wide blade for a head, and it imbedded itself deep into his thigh, the tip impacting the bone.
“Son of a bitch!” he screamed in pain, as Magnus and Valens caught him. As he wrenched the weapon from his leg, he saw a Roman javelin come sailing from the lower right of the balcony, skewing the thrower, who pitched over the side. Artorius looked over to see Decimus with Carbo and Gavius, who had thrown the javelin.
“Are you alright?” Decimus asked as he rushed over to his Sergeant.
“It’s not bleeding too badly,” Artorius observed, taking a deep breath. “It will probably start hurting like hell once this rush of adrenaline wears off!” With that he limped off with the rest of his section towards where they guessed the rest of their Century was.
“Where’s Felix?” Carbo asked.
“He’s hurt badly,” Magnus replied as he braced Artorius upright. “We have to get him help or he’s not going to make it.”
“And the girl?” Decimus asked. Valens shook his head; all the reply any of the men needed.
“Let’s go before my leg seizes up on me,” Artorius ordered.
The main hall was filled with gladiators and rebels trying to escape the pending slaughter. Optio Flaccus and his men marched deliberately down the hall on line, swords drawn. As they came to rooms, sections would break off and clear them before the entire force would move on. Often the sounds of a scuffle could be heard inside as the rebels were overwhelmed. Many ran from the sight of the wall of men and steel, instead hoping to escape through the main gate, where unbeknownst to them Macro and the rest of the Century waited. It was Sergeant Rufio who first came upon the room where Felix lay dying.
“Praxus get up here!” he shouted. His fellow Decanus was at his side in a moment, the vision of his soldier mortally stricken with the girl Kiana lying slain wrenched at his heart.
“Sergeant,” Felix said with a shallow smile, his face pale and damp. Praxus clutched his hand and looked at the sodden bandages over his abdomen.
“Sergeant Artorius,” Felix explained. “He’s gone to get help. I’m sorry…” Praxus clutched the legionary’s hand and shook his head.
“No,” he replied. “You served honorably, you did your best. I am proud to have you as one of my legionaries.” He then turned to see two of his men standing in the doorway, their faces agape in horror.
“Praxus, Sergeant Artorius has been hit too,” one of the men said. “I saw his men helping him away.”
“Alright,” Praxus replied with a nod. “We’ll have to get help for our brother ourselves then. Find Centurion Macro; get a horse and seek out the town surgeon.”
“Yes sir.”
Artorius hobbled around the corner to see what remained of the gladiators trying to make their escape. One of them held a female hostage; Artorius shuddered when he recognized Diana. The man stood behind her with a legionary-style dagger on her throat. She was struggling against his grip, her lip swollen and bleeding. Macro and about thirty soldiers from the Century stood between the handful of rebels and freedom. They were on line, behind a wall of shields, their javelins at the ready. The men from Artorius’ section fell in behind them, devoid as they were of shield or javelin. Macro was negotiating with the leader who held the woman hostage.
“It’s not going to happen!” Macro stated, maintaining his composure.
“Would you rather I slit this innocent woman’s throat?” Heracles rasped. As Diana struggled, he pressed the knife hard against her throat, causing a small stream of blood to escape. She immediately froze up.
“Your commanding officer would not be happy if his precious cousin died because of you! All I ask is that we be allowed to leave here as free men! Grant us our liberty and she will be returned unharmed.”
Behind the wall of legionaries Artorius saw two soldiers talking frantically with Statorius. The Tesserarius pointed over to Macro’s horse and signaled for one of the men to go. Artorius recognized them from Praxus’ section and knew they were going to fetch help for Legionary Felix. He sighed and nodded, now focused on keeping his promise to Lady Diana.
“It is not in my authority to grant what you wish!” Macro replied. “The Senate of Rome has condemned you, only they can pardon you.”
“Then her blood will be on your hands!” He started to slice the knife slowly across her neck, when he saw Artorius limp over to his Commander.
“Sir, permission to end this debacle,” he stated, rather than requested. Macro looked at him and at the gaping wound on his leg.
“Damn it Artorius, where have you been? You look like hell.”
“We’ve been busy,” Artorius replied. “Now are you going to let me end this for you or not?” His eyes were cold and focused. He hardly felt the pain in his leg. The assailant paused and watched the debate, puzzled by what he saw.