Chapter Twenty Eight
A ripple effect had started in Kailen's men at the sound of the Roman's chants of "General! General! General!"
The Roman's moral was peaking and at the sight of their General riding into battle, the Britons hesitated. His reputation as a ruthless invader preceded him, and for him to be fighting on the front lines sent the British warriors into confusion.
The Romans pressed their advantage, forced the Britons back several steps and cut down any man or woman who wasn't quick enough. Pulling the wounded from the field was no longer an option, not unless they wanted to die in the process. The Romans gave them no choice but to leave them where they lay. Every man still able was called upon to hold the line. Hold. Hold. Hold. Hold!
Arrows could no longer be fired into the crowd in case they hit people on their own side as well as the enemy. Kailen screamed for the archers to take up their swords and join the fray. With a rumbling roar, they swept down the hill as one and slammed into the Roman ranks, forcing them to break and stagger.
Kailen was riding an incredible crest of pure adrenaline, his movements were fluid, almost instinctual as he stood shoulder to shoulder with his men. Everything was riding on this very day. He wasn't about to take any risky chances for their survival, one wrong move could cost them everything. But it wasn't himself that Kailen had to worry about.
It was Caratacus.
The man appeared again by his side, blood spattered across his face, making it look like a grotesque mask. His eyes, once so dead before, were now alight with the glow of blood lust. Kailen met those eyes and it chilled him to the bone. He was not himself. Whatever now possessed his friend and High King was not of this world.
Caratacus reached out and gripped Kailen's shoulder with a fierce cold grip. "Aquilla is here. He has finally taken to the field."
"I know." Kailen shouted back over the clash of metal. "I saw him." He tried to wriggle from his grip but it was useless.
The High King seemed to not have noticed Kailen's discomfort. He leaned closer. "This is our chance. We can not let him get away from us. He has to dies."
"And he will." Kailen assured him. "He won't escape us again. Not this time."
The light in Caratacus's eyes seemed to spark, his smile twisted. "Then let us take this fight to him. You and i leading our men to victory."
Kailen only felt dawning horror at these words. "We cannot. If we advance our line away from our fortifications, everything will be lost. The Romans will use their shield wall and massacre us."
Caratacus was not listening. "He wouldn't expect a direct assault on his position. He would be helpless against us."
It was Kailen's turn to grip the High King's shoulder with his powerful hand, hoping to shake some sense into the man. "Caratacus, no, don't do this. Give us more time, we'll have him, i prom-"
"The time is now!" Caratacus shook shook him off with a violent shrug. "I will have vengeance for my family. Their spirits cry out for Roman blood!"
He drew his sword over his head, rallying his warriors to him. Kailen could only stand there in stunned fury as he watched Caratacus and his men broke from their formation, shattering their stronghold and started to push forward.
Out in the open, out towards Aquilla, Out towards certain death and the death of the Silure tribe.
"What is he doing!" Bran yelled, alarm in his voice as he watched the breaking of their formation. "He's trying to kill us all!"
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War Prize (A Roman Britain story)Historical Fiction
Aurelia, a Noble Roman woman, had heard of the savage British tribes, their mystic Celtic ways, and the battles the Roman army was fighting against them on their shores. The battles her soon-to-be Husband, Quintus Acquilla, was fighting in the name...