Descendants of Rome (#3 in Gladiator Series)

Chapter 28

Chapter 28

 

Her body slammed into the ground, her body half-submerged in a bath of mud and water.

"Hey!" Marcia shouted, throwing herself against the bars as the door to her cage was locked shut.

As the guards turned and marched away, Marcia collapsed to the ground and rested her head against the wooden bars, gratefully allowed to close her eyes.

Her body was overcome with exhaustion as her muscles ached and her upper arm burned, it felt as if her flesh was still melting from the heat that radiated from her newest brand.

Marcia could only look at the mark on her flesh for a second before her stomach churned and her throat retched.

She not only felt sick and defeated, but ashamed.

Marcia could not let her parents see it. They would be distraught if they learnt that the child they had risen in freedom, and who continue to fight for her freedom, had been branded like a slave.

Marcia's hatred for Octavia threatened to engulf her as she began to scratch at the wound, hoping to tear it off her flesh but she only caused it to bleed further, a cry of pain escaping her lips.

Her cry woke the others.

"Marcia? Marcia!" Petra reached through the bars of her cage, trying to reach her friend in captivity.

Marcia would not allow herself to be touched but she turned to her fellow prisoners and promised them freedom.

Petra frowned, "What do you mean?"

Marcia looked upon their small gathering of at least a dozen slaves. Petra said they had been captured trying to reach the fort.

"My friend is coming to rescue me," Marcia reassured them, "Once he does, I shall get you out of there."

Petra translated for her sister, Philyra, whose face erupted with happiness.

Marcia sat back and leant her forehead against the wooden bars, her eyes closing in much needed rest.

*

As night fell on the second day, Lazarus knew he would not get a better opportunity.

He had watched Marcia being returned to her cage and knew now was the time to strike. Returning from the other side of camp he had used his mother's plan of distraction to its maximum.

A single guard now watched over the sleeping prisoners.

Lazarus caught sight of Marcia, the torch in the guard's hand flickering across her face.

Striding up to the guard, he commented to Lazarus about the fire on the other side of the camp near the food supply.

"What started that then?" He asked.

Lazarus stopped beside him and shrugged, "One of Krista's men I think,"

The guard cursed, "Shouldn't you be over there?"

Lazarus turned and smiled at him, "Most probably."

The guard did not understand, his mouth opening to give Lazarus orders, when Lazarus swiftly landed a firm punch into the man's jaw.

The guard's head was knocked to the side but he kept his balance until Lazarus hooked his boot around the man's ankle and pulled it out from beneath him.