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.
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